Of Cats And Wolves
by Darth Ixnay
Summary: The NWN2 OC seen through the eyes of my PC and certain evil ranger. Rated M for violence, some strong language and future adult themes. Chapter 8 "When Heroes Die" now up.
1. First impressions

_**A/N:** I took the liberty of rewriting a scene from the original game to show it more through the eyes of my beloved PC. The dialogue is probably inaccurate - a result of me owning a non-English version of the game - so my apologies to all the purists. ;) Rated M for later chapters and strong language in some places._

_**I do not own NWN2 or any of the characters** (although I certainly wouldn't mind owning Bishop for a while...), **except for Gina Bendon, my human Fighter/Duelist PC.**_

OOO

"And who's that gloomy guy in the corner?" Gina asked, not looking back. She was sitting by the counter, with her back to the entrance, sipping casually on ale. It was late evening and not many patrons were still inside the Flagon, thus making it easier to spot someone staring. The man she asked about, however, seemed rooted to his chair. When she thought about it, she didn't seem to recall one time he hadn't been there, half his face cloaked in darkness, gleaming eyes fixed upon her. It aroused her interest, and, against her better judgment, she found herself purposely staring back at him at times.

Duncan put down the tankard he'd been cleaning and glanced carefully over her shoulder, knitting his brows. "Him? That's Bishop. Though you're better off not knowing him."

Gina raised an eyebrow. "Interesting name. Your regular customer, I take it?"

"I suppose you could say that," he winced. "He has a weakness for my cheapest beer."

She took another sip. "What does he do?"

"He's… a ranger." Duncan lowered his voice. "Be careful around him, Gina. He's trouble."

"Oh, I like trouble," she smirked.

"Not this kind, believe me. He'd sell ye for a couple of gold pieces if he only had the chance."

"A challenge then." She looked up at her uncle, smiling. "Thanks for the concern, but I can take care of myself."

"I know, I know," Duncan sighed. "You're a smart lass. But don't say I didn't warn ye. Daeghun will have my hide should anything happen to you."

"I'll keep that in mind," she chuckled and stretched in her seat, yawning. "Well, I think I'll try to catch some sleep before tomorrow."

"Another assignment?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, again. If I had known Brelaina was such a bloodsucker, I would have tried my luck with Moire's gang instead."

"I doubt it would have been much better, lass." She could see the pride in Duncan's eyes as he smiled at her. "Not many people in this city can wield a blade as well as you do."

"Guess that's a family trait, then," she winked, to which the barkeep beamed even more brightly. "Goodnight, Duncan."

"Sleep well, Gina."

She turned around and lightly hopped off the tall bar stool, the wooden floor creaking silently beneath her heels. She wasn't surprised to find the ranger watching her again.

_Bishop_, she thought absently, and discovered she liked the way the bizarre name resounded in her head. As she strode across the room she could practically feel his eyes upon her, following her until she reached the staircase leading to her bedroom. A pleasant shiver ran down her spine. She swung her hips nonchalantly, making sure he took a good look.

_Trouble, __hmm?_ She grinned to herself. _Aren't all things that are fun 'trouble'?  
_

OOO

"They have taken Shandra."

Gina looked up at Casavir, wondering how in the Hells he managed to put on his plate mail so quickly.

_Or does he sleep in it?_

Then his words sunk in, complete with the all too evident concern with which he spoke them. She felt her hand clench into a fist and she banged it against a nearby table. "Damnit, not again!"

Neeshka gave the paladin an offended look. "And you said _I_ got into trouble a lot."

Gina closed her eyes. This couldn't be happening. Not after all they had gone through the previous day to get the woman to safety. _Safety. Riiiiight…_

"How the hell did githyanki get into the city?" Duncan burst. Gina noticed the blood on his forehead, although he was showing no sign of pain.

_Maybe he and Daeghun do have something in common after all._

"Does it matter?" an unpleasant voice said. "You better hurry if you want to get her back."

Everyone turned to look at the ranger who now emerged from the shadows, still tightly gripping his bloodied longsword and dagger. Gina had caught a glimpse of him during the fight, but she suddenly realized that it was the first time she had a chance to observe him at such close quarters. He was undeniably handsome, even with the rather nasty half-smile that twisted his lips, and – judging by the way he carried his weapons – a skilled fighter. His bright amber eyes – the same that usually followed her every move from his favorite spot in the corner – focused on her, sliding shamelessly across her form. She felt exposed under his stare, like a doe watched by a hungry wolf.

_Small wonder_.

She had rushed into battle without thinking, pausing only to grab her boots and weapons after Duncan's shouts had woken her… meaning she was only wearing that and the thin linen shirt she slept in, the garment barely reaching past her hips. The ranger's gaze lingered upon her (now covered with scratches and bruises) bare legs for a heartbeat before shifting to the bodies the floor was littered with. Slightly disappointed that the moment was over, Gina followed his example. _Quite the massacre we've made._

"Unless we find out where they're striking from, I don't think we're going anywhere." She frowned and prodded one of the bodies with the heel of her boot. The githyanki was as dead as you could get.

_I guess I won't be getting any answers from you…_

Neeshka eyed the bodies critically. "Am I the only one who thinks killing all of them was a bad idea? Corpses don't talk. Well, I'm not counting the undead here…"

"Well, well… this one's just said something."

Gina turned her head, intrigued. The ranger slowly rose from his knees, carefully examining a small object.

"A piece of wood from Duskwood," he drawled lazily. "This means they came from within Luskan territory… and that's likely where they'll be taking your precious friend."

"Luskan," Duncan nearly jumped, giving the man an accusing look. "That's your area, Bishop."

The look the ranger presented him with in return would probably kill anyone less resistant.

"Yeah, but _this_ is not my problem," the man snarled. "I'm not going to travel into Luskan territory, _especially_ not with any of your relatives, Duncan."

This caused Gina to raise an eyebrow. _We're taking this a little personally, aren't we?_ She narrowed her eyes at the ranger, but chose to remain silent.

"You _will_ help them, Bishop. Whether you like it or not."

She looked at Duncan, puzzled. There was a hardness in his tone she'd never heard before, the look in his eye indicating clearly that he was indeed prepared to force the ranger to do as he asked. The idea of the jovial half-elf fighting the dangerous man seemed preposterous, and yet right then and there she had no trouble picturing it.

"And what makes you think I will?" Bishop's voice was low and hissing, his eyes filled with pure, unadulterated hatred as they met Duncan's. Gina felt a cold shiver run down her spine. Subconsciously, she moved her hand closer to the hilt of her rapier, ready to act at any sign of both men's eagerness to jump at each other's throats.

The sudden shift in Duncan's stance surprised her. The tension seemed to leave his muscles, his features visibly smoothing. He kept looking intently at the other man, but the hostility was gone, replaced by an aura of absolute… _certainty?_ She suddenly became aware that there was some unspoken discussion going on between the two of them.

"So we'd call it quits then, Duncan?" the ranger spoke quietly, taking a few cautious steps towards the barkeep. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

Duncan didn't even blink. "A woman's life is in danger, Bishop. If it means you'll do the right thing for once, so be it."

The change in Bishop was as abrupt as that in Duncan moments earlier. "Alright. I'll do it. Small price for getting rid of you once and for all." He sneered. "You're a fool, Duncan."

Duncan only waved his hand at him with a resigned expression. "So be it," he repeated.

Bishop's gaze rested upon her once more. "The longer we stand here, the further that farm girl of yours gets," he said as he sheathed his weapons. "Grab your gear and meet me outside. You should probably get dressed too." Another fleeting but obvious glance at her thighs… "Unless this is how you distract your enemies." He leered at her, to which she only raised an amused eyebrow.

_Not just my enemies, it would seem._

"Five minutes," she said simply.

Apparently satisfied with the answer, he left towards the exit, adjusting the quiver and longbow on his back as he went.

As soon as he was gone, Gina turned to Duncan. "What was that all about?"

She could tell he was trying to avoid looking at her directly. "Just some old business. Watch him. He'll be loyal for now, but only until he pays his debt, or until you run out of gold."

She nodded slowly and gave up any further queries. _I swear there's more of Daeghun in him than either of them suspect._

"Whatever it was you just did, thank you. I went hunting with Daeghun in the past, but I'm no tracker."

"Just be careful out there, lass."

"I'll watch her back," Neeshka winked at her and grinned at Duncan. "We'll bring Shandra back in one piece before you even clean up this mess."

The half-elf looked down at the bloodstains on the once-clean floor and groaned. Gina chuckled softly as she hurried back up the stairs.

Five minutes later she was still smiling as she fell into step with the ranger behind Neverwinter's gates. The fun was beginning.


	2. Know your prey

He was amazed they were still alive. Even more – he had _hoped_ they would all be dead by now, the band of misfits they were. They had proven him wrong. It was unthinkable. Take the dwarf… a good enough fighter, but with a temper like that he would start a fight with someone better than him sooner or later. The tiefling girl, with all her subtle abilities and street smarts, would not survive a day in the wilds on her own. The elven druidess seemed far too soft and merciful to be useful in a fight, the gnome was just a walking target practice, and the snotty sorceress would end up with a dagger in her ribs in no time, judging by the looks everyone – including him – was giving her. A shame, really. The girl was pretty enough, and he found the thought of bedding her entertaining, but she needed to learn to keep her stupid mouth shut. Same went for the farm girl, for that matter, although she wasn't even half as annoying. The only one capable enough to pose any real threat, which Bishop grudgingly admitted, was the paladin.

He gnashed his teeth, trying to take his mind off the unpleasant subject. He leaned back against the tree he was sitting under, his gaze drifting to the middle of the clearing where they camped. There, in the centre of a continuously growing circle of dust, two women were sparring, sweat covering their foreheads as they exchanged blows, a rapier against a longsword. He regarded the shorter, blonde woman briefly, then switched to the other. Their _leader_. Now, _she_ was a tricky one to figure out. He had the sneaking feeling there was far more to her than he could make out at first, or even second glance. She didn't look like an innocent girl from some backwater swamp village, that was for sure. She was a woman – not that much younger than him, from what he could tell. She was hell in battle, definitely one of the best fencers he had seen in action. And that body… with legs like that she could make a fortune working as a dancer if she ever decided to retire.

Bishop smirked at the thought as he watched her swift, graceful movements. She wasn't a classic beauty, no, but there was something endlessly attractive about her – something in her boyish haircut with loose strands of hair falling over her right eye, her careless manner, the way her hips swayed when she walked… especially when she walked in front of him. He'd really be a damn fool to miss the last one.

Karnwyr did not like her. Not one bit. She smelled of cat fur, the wolf reasoned, and that could not be good. He usually bared his fangs and started growling as soon as he spotted or smelled her. Strangely enough though, she did not cower when it happened. Bishop could still recall her first encounter with his animal companion.

"He can tell a cat lover when he sees one, can't he?" she laughed, watching the wolf through half-closed eyelids with detached amusement, looking perfectly cat-like as she did so.

That was where things stopped adding up for Bishop. Cats never liked him. Not that he could blame them. They usually hissed at him and ran away as soon as they saw him approach from across the street. Unlike her. For reasons he couldn't fathom, she seemed to enjoy his company. The snide comments and not-so-subtle innuendos he used to keep people away from him only caused her to smile. She would even add something of her own on occasion, always eliciting a tiny shiver at the base of his spine from him. And he could never guess what was going on inside her head. It was frustrating. _And_ exciting.

He made himself more comfortable against the tree trunk as he continued to watch the scene before him. She sure was serious about the whole training thing, and, surprisingly, the results were already starting to show. Shandra's first attempts at using the blade had been rather pathetic, and he took a great deal of pleasure in mocking her by explaining the differences between a sword and a rake. But a few days and several dozen of bruises later she no longer reminded him of a clumsy goblin wielding a spear twice its size. He smirked. Maybe there was hope for the farm girl yet.

He caught himself no longer paying attention to the fight. Instead, he somehow became fixated on the way Gina's mane of snow-white hair shimmered with orange reflexes from the sunset. He gave a quiet snort. He was getting careless. And what kind of hair color was that anyway? It made him wonder if she was born with it, dyed it, or if perhaps it had something to do with the silver shard embedded in her chest. Yeah, she was certainly full of surprises. Literally. He felt the strange eagerness to study her whole, to expose that and any other secrets she may have had. She made him curious like no woman before. It was a novel experience and he wasn't sure if he liked the implications. He mentally berated himself. He could not allow himself to be distracted, not by the person he should be wary of most. She was Duncan's niece after all, kinship or not. Perhaps it meant nothing… perhaps everything.

Still, it wasn't like he couldn't enjoy their little game all the same. At least for the time being. He had chosen to stay, telling himself it was to keep an eye on her, _and_ to see how much longer this motley crew of hers would last. Now it seemed there might have been more to his decision than he had thought. He idly wondered just how stupid the look on Duncan's face would be if he found out Bishop had fucked his precious niece... His lips slowly formed a predatory smile. This could prove to be a profitable adventure indeed.


	3. Old wounds, new wounds

_**A/N:** and here it is. I know I suck at battle scenes, and I try to avoid them whenever possible, but this plot bunny was very persistent and, well... I had to write it. I also decided to make the fight a bit more interesting than in the game. I have no idea why I chose this one though... I'm like Sand in this respect - a good spider is a flat spider. ;) And I apologize for the crappy cliffhanger at the end, but it seemed the only appropriate way to finish this part. Future rewrites are possible though.  
_

OOO

"Never thought I'd be out helpin' a band of stinky goblins," Khelgar grumbled.

Bishop concurred. Running errands was bad enough in his book. Running errands for a goblin chief… Bishop groaned and shook his head. It was so unbelievable it was almost funny. He was used to killing the ugly creatures, not assisting them, but even he agreed that getting rid of a few spiders was easier than slaughtering a tribe of a hundred goblins, no matter how much he wished for the latter to happen. Easier didn't mean more pleasant though… He cursed under his breath as sticky threads clung to his armor, and continued to cut his way through the giant spider web with his sword. Someone would suffer for this, very soon, if he had anything to say in the matter. And he always did.

"We're close now," he threw over his shoulder, not looking at others that followed his lead in silence. "Ready your weapons and _try_ not to trip."

A small ball of white light floated over his head. They had decided not to use torches and rely on the elf's magic instead, for the sake of convenience. He winced at the thought. He did not trust magicians, not after having lived in Luskan. The only reason he tolerated this particular wizard (Sand was it? Hell of a first name. Not that his was any better…) was that the elf appeared to loathe the Luskans almost as much as he did.

He slashed at the remaining threads. The tunnel they came through opened into a large cavern. Glowing yellowish-green fungi covered its walls, but their soft, otherworldly light only seemed to deepen the shadows.

"How many of them are supposed to be here? This place looks big," said the tiefling somewhere behind him.

Bishop ignored the question, scanning their surroundings for any signs of spider activity. He sheathed his sword and reached for his longbow, then squatted down, his muscles tense.

He felt Gina's breath against his ear a second before he heard it, the sensation making the hair on the nape of his neck stand. He smirked to himself. It had to be her. No one else ever got so close to him willingly, especially when he was armed.

"So what's the plan, ranger?" she asked lightly.

He repressed a shudder._ Don't look at her. Don't look…_

She crouched right next to him, their elbows touching. He wondered if she knew the effect she was having on him, and if perhaps he was doing the same to her. He absently picked an arrow from his quiver and nocked it, never averting his gaze from the shadows. "How about the good old 'kill-everything-that-moves-preferably-without-getting-ourselves-killed' approach?"

He could sense her smile and again fought the urge to look at her. Suddenly she froze and gripped her weapon tighter, staring at something ahead. He saw it too – something stirred inside the cavern. He raised his bow cautiously.

"What is it?" came Shandra's nervous inquiry.

The ball of magic light crackled and dissipated. _So much for the elf's usefulness._ Bishop was unable to make out anything in the darkness – except for two small glowing objects, apparently moving in their direction. _Oh, great._

Sand groaned, confirming his suspicions. "Have I mentioned lately how much I _hate_ spiders?" the elf complained.

"Not in the last five minutes, no," Neeshka retorted.

Bishop pulled the bowstring to his cheek. "Here we go." He released the arrow, not even bothering to take aim. A piercing noise echoed around the cave and one glowing spot disappeared.

"Not bad," Gina commented and leapt up to her feet. "Sand, more light!" she shouted… and charged straight into the cavern.

Before Bishop understood what she was doing, a blinding, soundless explosion filled the air. A few long seconds passed before he finally decided to open his eyes. _Hate magic._ With a grimace, he blinked a couple of times, adjusting his sight to the new lighting. He quickly glanced around the cavern, noticing not two, but at least a dozen giant spiders – and Gina charging at the largest creature. He swore. _Fool girl is going to get us all killed!_

"That's what I love about the lass!" Khelgar bellowed and ran after her, swinging his axe and shouting dwarven battle cries.

"Hey, Stumpy, wait for me!" yelled Neeshka, drawing her daggers.

Gina's tactics seemed to have worked surprisingly well. Momentarily blinded by Sand's light spell, the spiders backed away a little, giving the group time to act. Bishop saw Gina dive between the giant spider's legs and roll on the ground clutching her weapon to her side. Before the spider could move, her rapier shot upwards and sank into its radiant abdomen. She rolled over once more and jumped up as the wounded arachnid collapsed on the ground, finishing it quickly. Bishop sent arrow after arrow flying towards the other creatures, if not to kill them, then to slow them down before they got close to either Gina or the others while they were engaged in a fight. The dwarf swung his axe furiously, chopping off spider legs and fending off their palps. Neeshka and Gina were both a blur of whooshing blades, fighting back to back and not allowing the spiders to swarm them. Bishop spun to the left as he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. He fired instantly, hitting the arachnid between its many eyes.

"A little help here, wizard?" he snarled, placing an arrow in another creature's abdomen. More spiders were advancing on their positions, having somehow gotten past the melee fighting trio.

The elf muttered something that Bishop only partially understood (_As if I ever knew my mother…_) and began preparing another spell.

"There's more of them than we thought," Shandra shouted above the tumult of battle. She hurried towards Sand, raising her blade and standing between the wizard and the newest group of four creatures. Bishop took out the leftmost spider with one shot, while Shandra hacked at the rightmost, fending off another one with her shield.

"Sand, hurry!" the woman begged as the spider's jaws reached out for her head.

"Alright, stand back everyone!" Sand called out, stretching out his arm in what Bishop thought was an overly dramatic gesture. Just as Shandra ducked to the side, five magic missiles shot out from the wizard's fingers. Two hit the nearest creatures, killing them on the spot. The other three cleared the way for Bishop's arrows and Shandra, who ran over to help the outnumbered dwarf. In a matter of moments the fighting was over, the shrill noises slowly dying away as Khelgar went about putting the wounded spiders out of their misery. Bishop slung his bow over his shoulder and drew his sword to aid the dwarf in his grim task.

_Well, that wasn't too bad, _he thought. Maybe his current companions were not just a bunch of useless sniveling fools after all.

He spotted Gina as she cleaned her rapier of the spiders' organic liquids. She seemed unharmed, and he was even more impressed by the broad smile she wore. _Hells, she really enjoys the fighting, doesn't she?_

She noticed him staring and walked up to him, grinning. "You okay?"

Her smile was contagious and it took all of his willpower to keep the scowl on his face. "You do realize you just almost got eaten alive, right?"

She shrugged. "I might hang soon, so why should I worry either way?"

He had to admit she had a point. They were here to gather evidence against Luskan and so far things were going well… but if anything went wrong at the trial, being hanged was the best she could wish for. Hell, even becoming a giant spider's meal wasn't so bad compared to the other options Luskan law provided.

A chill ran down his spine, but it wasn't caused by his thoughts of Luskans. Something was still wrong. He slowly looked around the cave, bathed only in the ethereal green glow after the light spell had expired. Their four companions stood a few feet away, tending to their minor injuries and talking quietly (except for Khelgar who was shouting excitedly). Bishop examined the surrounding shadows. He didn't see anything unusual or alarming, but it did not bring him any peace. His instincts had never failed him and he'd be damned if he stopped trusting them now. His gaze traveled up the walls that disappeared in darkness about twenty feet above them. Except now there was something looming out of the gloom…

Gina eyed him questioningly. "Bishop?" She turned around, following his gaze, but not quickly enough.

"Down! Now!" Bishop yelled as a huge arachnid dropped down from the ceiling right behind the woman. He had no time to reach for his bow. Instead he yanked his dagger from the scabbard on his chest and threw. It hit its mark, sinking deep into the creature's head with a sickening crunch. Bishop heard Gina and the others scream in alarm a fraction of second before something sank its teeth in his side. The pain blinded him for a moment, but he managed to swing his sword arm once before falling heavily onto his back. The spider screeched in pain, but it refused to let go of its prey. Bishop fought fiercely, kicking and punching the hairy legs. He smashed the hilt of his sword into the spider's head a few times before he lost his grip and the weapon fell onto the stones behind him.

_Hell of a way to go,_ he thought as the enormous palps drew closer to his face.

Suddenly the creature let out another shriek and jumped away from him. Bishop lifted himself on his elbows and tried to inch further away while looking around for his sword. He caught a glimpse of what he thought was the dwarf's axe flying through the air and straight into the spider's side.

"Grab Bishop!" Gina shouted, leaping towards the still writhing arachnid, her rapier slashing and stabbing mercilessly.

He felt someone – two someones grab him by the arms and haul him backwards. "Can ye walk, lad?"

"Yeah," he growled as they helped him up. His side throbbed and burned like fire, and as much as he hated it, he had to hold on to Khelgar briefly as he struggled to his feet.

Gina ran up to them, panting slightly, her eyes blazing. He noticed she was carrying his weapons. "I think that was the last one. Let's get the hell out of here."

"Your first good idea today, dear leader," came Sand's dry comment.

Bishop irately pushed away the hands that still held him and turned away, holding his side. "Let's go."

Gina fell into step beside him as they reached the tunnel. "You're hurt."

He pressed his hand to the wound and glanced down. The leather of his armor was wet from blood, soaking his glove as well. "I'm fine," he snapped, not even looking in her direction. His head was spinning as if he had a few too many ales.

"Bishop, do you take me for an idiot? It bit you."

"I said I-" He staggered and reached out to hold on to a wall. The right side of his body was starting to go numb. The spider's venom was already working its way into his system. He cursed inwardly. He felt Gina's arm snake around his waist while she wrapped his arm around her neck. He tried to fend her off, but to no avail. He hadn't thought she was that strong. Or was it him growing weaker by the minute?

"Damn it, you're worse than Duncan and my father combined!"

"I bet they'll be happy to hear," he muttered as he limped alongside her.

The world around him was starting to lose contours. He couldn't feel his leg anymore. Gina stumbled as he lost his balance, and they were forced to stop. Bishop saw the torchlight from the goblins' camp and relaxed a bit. At least they were relatively safe now. He leaned his back against the wall. He realized he had closed his eyes only when he felt Gina pat his cheek lightly.

"Bishop. Bishop, look at me!"

He lifted his eyelids. She was kneeling in front of him, her face inches from his. He smirked. "Missed me?"

She ignored him and used his knife to cut his destroyed leathers. _Any other time I might have enjoyed this,_ came a cheering thought. He hissed in pain as she peeled the fabric of his tunic away from the gash in his side. He could tell it didn't look good by her torrent of elfish oaths that probably made Sand cringe. He tried to say something, but then his eyes drifted closed again of their own accord. Gina calling out to him was the last thing he heard before he fell into blackness.


	4. Debts

Bishop awoke to the pounding in his head. He squeezed his eyelids shut tighter in an effort to block out at least some of the pain. Having failed that, he tossed his head violently on the soft pillow.

_Wait, pillow?_

He was lying in a bed, a warm blanket wrapped over him. He then became aware that at least part of the reason his head hurt so much was Karnwyr's low growling somewhere to his right.

"Karnwyr," he called out, trying to sound commanding, but the word came out weak and terribly hoarse. His mouth was dry. He felt he could drink an entire bucket of water.

_To the hells with water. I need ale._

The growling stopped and he heard the wolf trot to his side. A second later a wet nose nuzzled into his palm. Bishop carefully opened one eye. He was in his room in the Sunken Flagon. He was in too much pain to wonder how that was possible, but he did take note of his apparent lack of clothing, save for his undertrews and… he quickly examined his side… the thick linen bandage around his waist. He was surprised to discover his wound wasn't aching anymore. There wasn't even a scab.

He opened the other eye. The curtains on the window were mercifully pulled down, keeping out most of the sunlight that would have undoubtedly caused him even greater headache.

He sensed movement in the corner of the room. Karnwyr turned away from him, his ears flat on his head as he watched the intruder. Bishop didn't even have to look to guess who that was.

"Rise and shine, ranger."

Gina slowly walked up to his bedside and squatted down to look at him directly. Karnwyr stood up and fled to the opposite side of the bed, as if her presence offended him. She shot a brief glance at the wolf and shrugged.

"The feeling is mutual, you know." She turned back to Bishop, eyeing him curiously and – what surprised him – with some measure of concern.

"Thirsty?"

He scowled at her, unwilling to admit his weakness, even to himself. Not waiting for his answer, she produced a large tankard and held it up in front of him. He knew his face must have betrayed him because she chuckled.

"Figured you wouldn't settle for water."

He managed to grab the tankard and lift his head a bit. The feeling of Duncan's ale pouring down his sore throat was bliss. His headache seemed to subside almost instantly.

"How long?" he asked in-between greedy gulps.

"A day and a half."

"How did we get here?"

"Well, carrying you all the way back to Port Llast was too risky. Luckily, Sand happened to have a teleportation scroll handy. He managed to get the two of us safely to his shop," she gave him a slight smile, "I'll have to pay him for the door though. He forgot to give me the keys."

"I knew there was a reason we kept the wizard around." Bishop set the empty tankard on the floor and fingered his side. "Don't tell me I have the paladin to thank for this."

She laughed softly. "Don't worry, it's Elanee's work. She's the only one who's dealt with giant spider venom before. She removed most of it with her magic and you sweated out the rest."

He sniffed. _Right. That would explain the smell._

Gina smirked. "Yeah, you could use a bath."

Bishop eyed the woman warily, wondering why exactly she was there. Not that he was complaining. He could imagine far worse sights to behold after waking up from a poison-induced dream. He couldn't help but notice the top four buttons on her tunic were undone, not enough to reveal anything really important, but enough to get his imagination working. Out of sheer, sick curiosity, he wondered if he would be able to catch a glimpse of her shard scar if he tried.

Slowly, almost too slow, she pulled herself up to sit on the bed beside him. She lifted one leg and hugged it, the other dangling from the bed. Her hip nudged his in a manner that was not unpleasant in the slightest. She looked at him, her head tilted a bit.

"I wanted to say thanks."

He frowned. "For what?"

"For watching my back."

The truth was he was watching more than just her back, but he decided to keep that thought to himself. For now.

"Thought you didn't care if you got eaten."

She laughed. She always threw back her head when she did that. Always. Bishop thought he had seen a lot of women prettier than her, but he always seemed to forget that when he saw her like this, her long, smooth neck exposed, the ever-present flush on her cheeks deepening while her lips were curled into a smile.

"Well, the Luskans wouldn't get me, true… at least not in one piece… but I'd rather not die just yet. So thanks."

His usual lewd smirk was immediately in place. "You know, there are better ways to thank me than with empty words."

"Oh, I don't doubt that." She narrowed her eyes at him, but their look was not angry. More like… daring. She cocked her head to the side and shamelessly studied his naked chest for a few long moments. Some parts of Bishop suddenly felt warmer. A_ lot _warmer.

"Maybe some other time," she said at last, playful sparks dancing in her intense blue eyes. "When you won't be bleeding and sweating spider venom all over me."

_Oh, smooth._ Bishop felt the heat creep up his body, threatening to attack his face.

"Careful, lady," he drawled. "I wouldn't make such promises lightly if I were you. Need I remind you how much you already owe me?"

_A little reminder won't hurt_, he thought, nodding towards the wooden chest that contained his equipment. His weapons lay in a carefully constructed pile next to it. On top was his old skinning knife, the same he gave to the kid in Ember at her request – and the same he used to kill a giant spider before it killed her. She stared at the knife for a while.

"You never told me what's so special about it."

He shrugged. "Nothing. It's just a damn good skinning knife."

"If you say so," she smirked. "As for owing you, don't worry, I remember."

Much to Bishop's dismay, she got up from the bed. Her hand brushed his forearm in the process, causing goosebumps to appear on his skin. Her eyes glittered as she looked down at him and Bishop wondered if that was a good sign…

"In fact, there's something I'd like you to see. Can you stand up?"

He shot her a half-hearted glare and groaned. "Sure, unless a spider chewed off my legs in my sleep."

Gina laughed and eyed him with interest as he threw the blanket off him. He paused, arching an eyebrow at her.

"Are you going to watch, m'lady?"

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, mirroring his expression. "It's not like I haven't gotten an eyeful of your undertrews already."

Bishop cursed under his breath. _Great, what else have I missed?_

He carefully pushed himself up to his feet, fighting off the momentary dizziness. Gina stared at him openly all the while, not even trying to mask the delight in her eyes. Never had a woman had him at such disadvantage before. It disturbed him more than he was willing to admit.

"So?"

She nodded towards a chair to her side. "See for yourself."

On the chair he found a rather impressive parcel tied with a piece of rope. Intrigued, Bishop picked it up and pulled at the knot. His eyes widened as the paper unwrapped, revealing a piece of armor. A very finely crafted leather armor, to be precise. _What the…_

"I thought you might need it," Gina said. "That old thing of yours was pretty badly damaged, and it looked like it was about to fall apart anyway, so I took it to Werth and asked him to make a new one. You should try it on, see if it's not too tight."

For once, Bishop was at a loss.

"So what's it gonna cost me?" he asked, eyeing her suspiciously as he began to don the outfit. The leather was thick, but surprisingly flexible, just as he liked it.

Gina leaned casually against the windowsill. "Just think of it as a gift. I hope that covers at least a part of my debt."

_Ah, so it's about debts again, isn't it? Figures._

"Just so you know," Bishop muttered, voice slightly muffled by the leathers, "this isn't going to soften me either."

He felt her hands tug at the bottom of the armor and pull it down, releasing his head. He found himself eye to eye with Gina, and couldn't decide whether he loved or hated her wicked smile as she helped him with the buckles on the front of the armor.

"What makes you think I'd want to… _soften_ you?" she purred.

Bishop wasn't exactly sure what prevented his jaw from dropping and breaking down into pieces. As his brain was processing what his ears had just registered, the door to his room swung open and a cheerful voice rang out.

"Hello! I hope I am not dist… oh my, I think I am!"

Bishop glared daggers at the small figure in the doorway. Gina uttered a very silent, very foul swearword and sighed with resignation.

"It's alright, Grobnar. I was just helping Bishop with his new armor. What is it?"

The gnome remained silent for a moment, apparently taking note of Bishop's lack of pants, before finally snapping out of it.

"Oh." He blinked. "Oh, it's nothing. I only wanted to check on Sir Bishop and perhaps sing someth-"

"Now's not the best time, Grobnar," Gina interjected quickly.

Bishop was about to sigh with relief when she glanced at him over her shoulder, a mischievous glint in her eye. She turned back to the gnome.

"I'm sure Sir Bishop would be most pleased if you sang for us at dinner though."

_Damn this woman! Where's that dagger when I need it?_

Grobnar jumped up, clapping his hands excitedly. "Oh, splendid! A recital! Let me see, I'll have to prepare the notes, the… excuse me!" He turned around on his heels and ran off, bouncing happily down the corridor. Karnwyr used the opportunity and sneaked out of the room after the gnome. Gina shut the door behind them and leaned against it, grinning.

"You think that was funny?" Bishop growled.

She smirked. "Yes, quite. Does it fit?"

It took him a while to realize she was referring to the armor. He tightened the buckles on the sleeves and flexed his arms. It fit perfectly.

"Yeah, it does."

"I'm glad." She smiled and brushed some hair away from her forehead. "Looks good on you."

The door opened again, making Gina stumble forward. Grobnar poked his head inside the room.

"Oh, I almost forgot! Sir Sand said he wanted to speak with you urgently, Lady Gina," the gnome forced out at lightning speed, seeing Bishop's murderous glare fixed upon him. "Good day!" The next moment he was gone. Bishop hoped it was for good this time.

Gina groaned, knocking the back of her head against the door as it shut behind her.

"I'll better go see Sand, then."

Bishop raised and eyebrow. "What could the elf want?"

"The trial's tomorrow."

"What?"

She sighed, eyes closed. "We've got all the evidence we need. Why wait?"

Bishop eyed her closely. He could practically smell it on her. He heard it in her tension-filled voice, in her suddenly uneven breathing, saw it in the way she avoided his stare, despite what had almost happened just a few minutes before…

"You're scared."

She looked at him as though he had caught her stealing and chuckled uncertainly. "Are you surprised?"

He wasn't. She was fearless on the battleground, where she could make her own rules, yet vulnerable now that she had been thrown into events beyond her control, a greater power forcing her hand. It was a fear Bishop knew only too well. Of course, he would be damned if he admitted it.

"Why do it, then?"

She rubbed her face with her hands. "Mostly, I don't want to disappoint Sand. He's been spoiling for a verbal duel with that Luskan bitch for weeks now. I prefer a different kind of fight, but I suppose it'll have to do."

Bishop snorted and turned towards the window, gazing at the quiet street below. There were times when he could almost feel the city reach out, as if trying to choke him. This was one of those moments. He missed the wilderness, where he could at least pretend to be free, without anybody watching, judging and restraining him. Gina seemed far more comfortable within the city walls, but one glance at her told him now she felt the same.

"Hey, Bishop."

He pulled back his shoulders, slightly startled by her voice, and looked at her. She offered him a weary smile.

"Does your offer still stand?"

Five words he wasn't expecting at all. She sure had a knack for surprising him. He hadn't thought she was being serious when she first accepted his offer to run off with him. Hells, he wasn't even sure if _he_ had meant it. And yet there she was, with that irritating spark in her eye, making him stammer like a ten-year-old.

With a sniff, he tore his gaze away from her, shaking his head.

With a few steps she closed the distance between them, pausing by the window next to him. "What's wrong?"

Bishop tried hard to avoid her penetrating gaze. "Do you really think we'd be able to get far?"

She smiled. "Even with your superior tracking skills?"

He snorted again. "Oh come on, look around you! Every soldier and city guard would be on our back and we'd be dead within a week. There's nowhere to run, not one goddamn place!"

A lingering, uncomfortable silence ensued. Gina stared at him, her face not betraying any emotion. Finally, she sighed, running her long fingers through her hair in a gesture he had learned to recognize as a rare sign of defeat.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. It was foolish of me to ask."

She turned to walk away. Without even thinking about it, Bishop reached out, grabbing her arm and making her face him. She met his eyes firmly, looking more curious than angry at his sudden touch. He relaxed his grip a bit, feeling her taut muscles through the thin fabric of her tunic. She looked at him expectantly, eyebrows raised, as he struggled to think of something to say.

"Damn it, woman, stop twisting my words!" he growled. "That's not what I meant."

She smirked, narrowing her eyes, and he mentally prepared himself for a teasing remark. It never came. Bishop didn't know if he was relieved or furious at that fact. He wasn't certain of _anything_ anymore when she was around.

"I know," she said calmly. She took a slow step back. Bishop's hand slid off her arm and dropped limply to his side, making him feel incredibly stupid. She smiled. "I'll see you at dinner."

She paused briefly with one hand on the doorknob, throwing one last, long glance at him. "And by the gods, Bishop, put some pants on. There are innocent eyes there."

With a playful wink she left. Bishop waited for the sound of her footsteps to fade away before throwing himself face-down onto the bed with a loud groan.

_Hells, I'm such a fool!  
_


	5. The art of compromise

_**A/N:** It took me a while, but it's here. Big thanks to Swim for reminding me I need to keep this story going! ;) This is mostly a fun chapter, but don't let that fool you. There's angst coming up, lots and lots of it... by the end I'll probably be sick of it myself. A heartfelt thank you to all you lovely people who reviewed! I hope you enjoy this one._

OOO

"Let us go through it again," Sand intoned slowly, massaging his temples. Gina sighed and reluctantly put the slightly burnt toast back on the plate. Duncan must have been in a hurry this morning. She could not blame him, really. Everyone was on edge before the trial.

"No threats, no bluffing, look and act like a good little girl," she counted on her fingers while looking at Sand. "Did I miss something?"

"Only that the last thing might be a little hard to achieve," Neeshka giggled.

"Well, then be glad ye ain't the one who's been accused, fiendling," Khelgar interjected, spitting his morning ale across the table.

Gina laughed and jokingly poked her tongue out at Neeshka, who squinted back at her before giving the dwarf a friendly smack and causing the ale to flow out of his nose. Shandra and Elanee both rolled their eyes, while Casavir simply smiled and held Khelgar's arms when the dwarf tried to lunge at Neeshka. Grobnar was strumming his lute absently and Gina doubted he even noticed the commotion.

Bishop was missing. Nobody had seen him since the evening before. Duncan was of the opinion the ranger was still nursing his headache after the gnome's performance. Jaral, Sand's cat familiar, was of course happy at the ranger and his wolf's absence. Right now he was curled into a content ball or purring vanity next to Gina.

Sand cleared his throat. "If you are quite finished, maybe now my client and I can discuss the list of witnesses undisturbed."

Gina sighed. _Why does he always have to be right? I mean, isn't it a bit irritating to be the wise one?_ Another look at the wizard told her that perhaps it was indeed. She stroked Jaral's soft striped fur absently. It had always had a strangely calming effect on her mind.

"We will, Sand, but please, let's do it in my room after breakfast. We still have two hours before the trial begins."

The elf sighed theatrically.

"Very well, if that is your wish. If we run out of time, however, remember you only have yourself to blame."

She grinned.

"Have I told you lately that you can be a real sweetheart, Sand?"

The wizard shuddered.

"I would be grateful if you kept it to yourself, dear girl. I have a reputation to preserve."

Qara, who had just entered the common room with a tray of fresh toasts that looked just as burnt as the previous batch, gave him a venomous smile.

"Oh, don't worry about me. _I_ won't tell."

Sand eyed the toasts critically. "Oh, Qara. Did you make these yourself? How extremely _nice_ of you. Oh, and I see each one has your name on it, written in soot no less! Really, you shouldn't have. And I mean _really_."

Gina decided she didn't want to be there for the heated (both, literally and figuratively) discussion ahead. She snatched another toast from the tray and gave it a bite as she stood and fled to the kitchen. Twenty five years of suffering through Daeghun's various cooking experiments had made her taste buds resistant to pretty much everything from 'well-done' to 'scorched' to 'hey, you could build roads out of this thing!'. Her foster father was a true master when it came to archery, tracking and skinning animals, but he could never quite grasp the concept of making an omelet. Considering all that, toasts a'la Qara didn't even qualify as a minor inconvenience in her book.

Duncan was busy scrubbing a frying pan and did not notice her enter. She exchanged winks with Sal and quietly sneaked over to where her uncle stood. Pausing right behind him, she suddenly covered his eyes with her hands.

"Guess who!"

Duncan jumped, dropping the frying pan and splashing water all over his apron. He whirled around, throwing the look of death at Sal who was doubled over in laughter.

"By the gods, lass! How old are ya?"

"Far too old for this, but I'm not letting it stop me," she laughed giving him an apologetic kiss on the cheek. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist."

Duncan shook his head, his anger instantly melting away. "I guess I should be glad you're in good spirits, despite…" he trailed off.

"Despite the fact I might get shipped to Luskan in a few hours?" she asked innocently.

"Don't even say that, girl! I swear, if it comes to that I'll take that sword off the wall and show them justice myself!"

"You could also tell Qara to set all the ships currently docked in the city on fire," Gina tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Which may be my only rescue, considering she's probably burning my attorney alive right now."

Duncan snorted.

"They're at it again? Any other day I wouldn't stop her, but in this I trust Sand." He gave her a solemn stare. "He'll get ya out of this mess."

She nodded, wishing she felt as certain as he looked.

"I know. I can tell he lives for this sort of challenge. If anyone can outwit the ambassador, it's Sand."

Duncan nodded, suddenly deep in thought. She eyed him interestedly.

"Say, you got a moment, lass?" the half-elf asked, glancing over his shoulder towards the door in the back of the room.

She shrugged. "I suppose. What is it?"

He raised a finger and opened his mouth to say something, then gave up and motioned for her to wait as he disappeared into the back room. After a few moments he emerged, holding a long dusted box. He handed it to her without a word. Gina couldn't recognize the strange, absent look in his eyes. Curiosity eating away at her, she opened the box… and froze.

"It… belonged to Esmerelle," Duncan said softly.

"Mother?" Gina asked, breathless.

It was a dress. Gina ran the soft fabric between her fingers, afraid it might crumble beneath her touch. She gently removed the garment from the box. It was quite unique, made of rare and surely expensive silks. The grey material was rimmed with delicate silver lace around the cleavage and sleeves. Her mother had worn this? And Duncan had kept it all those years?

She looked at her uncle questioningly.

"She'd like you to wear it, I think."

She couldn't believe her ears.

"Wear? I mean… it's beautiful, but…" she shook her head, both touched and frightened. "I don't know, Duncan. You had it all this time and—"

He chuckled. "What, ya thought I was going to wear it myself? Call me an old fool, but I kept it for you. Daeghun and I both knew sooner or later you'd want to find out more about your mother. No Bendon could stay in one place too long, that much I know."

Gina stared at the dress, dumbfounded.

"I carry her last name, but not much beyond that..." She looked at Duncan, suddenly alarmed. "Duncan, I don't wear dresses!"

"Why not?"

"I just don't. Not since Daeghun made one for me when I was a girl." She shuddered at the memory. "It was awful. And it doesn't feel right anyway…"

Neeshka chose the moment to appear in the kitchen, scanning the room for anything more edible than the toasts. Her gaze paused on Gina and the dress.

"Hey, that's Sembian silk!" she said excitedly, her eyes sparkling as they usually did when she saw something valuable. "I haven't seen it in a while. It's worth more than the person who wears it! Where'd you get this dress, Gina?"

"From Duncan. It was my mother's, actually."

"Are you going to wear it for the trial?" The tiefling grabbed the garment from her hands and began to dance about with it, making Duncan flinch. "You have to!"

Gina looked at her friend in horror. _Oh, no. No way in the Hells. Just… NO!_

"Are you crazy, Neesh? I… I don't wear dresses. Ever."

"Why?"

"I just don't. And I have my reasons."

Neeshka's expression showed utter lack of understanding and compassion.

"Oh, come on."

"I'm telling you one last time, I—"

"Hey, Shandra!" the tiefling poked her head outside the door and let out a sharp whistle. "Just look at this!"

Gina closed her eyes.

"Neesh, please, don't _do_ this to me."

Shandra materialized on the threshold, her eyes widening at the wonder in Neeshka's hands as the tiefling explained the situation to her, gesturing animatedly, mostly with her tail.

Gina heard Duncan chuckle quietly.

"Looks like you may have no choice, lass. The ladies know best."

She gave him a pained look.

"I'm not a lady, Uncle. Never was, never will be."

"That's what your mother said," he smiled sadly. "She was just like you, a warrior to the last… but once she wore that dress, she made half of Nasher's court envious."

His eyes were looking at some distant memory again, and Gina felt an unfamiliar feeling stir within her. She would never share one of those memories. Instead, she would always be the sad reminder herself.

_Feeling sorry for yourself?_ A grim smile crossed her face. _What would Father say?_

She shook her head, pushing the thoughts away.

Meanwhile, the two women had finished plotting her imminent torture. She groaned at the sight of Shandra's determined face. She knew it was a lost cause from the moment the woman stepped in, but she was not about to go down without a fight.

"You should definitely wear it, Gina. We're all putting on something formal for the trial, even Khelgar. It's the right thing to do."

"So it is for a funeral," Gina muttered. "I'm not exactly dead yet, you know."

Shandra gave her a scornful look.

"Now you sound almost like Bishop. Don't make me smack you!"

"Feel free to try. I'm still not wearing it."

"Then I'll have to call Qara…"

"What? You wouldn't—"

But she was already leaning out the door. Gina caught a glimpse of Neeshka's apologetic and slightly embarrassed smile. Apparently, the tiefling wanted to avoid confronting the sorceress as well. Shandra, on the other hand, was not afraid of anyone…

_And to think __these two dare call themselves my friends._

"Hey, Qar—"

"Fine!" Gina shouted, her eyes closed and fists clenched, feeling as though she was about to confront an army of orcs. Only worse. "Fine, you win. But if I make an idiot out of myself, so help me—"

"You'll do great. We'll make sure of that. Now let's go, there's little time left."

OOO

_There goes my dignity_, Gina thought as Neeshka and Shandra stepped back to allow her to admire their handiwork in a mirror.

When she looked however, even she had to admit they had done amazingly well. Her mother's dress, after a few quick fixes courtesy of Shandra, fit her perfectly. The silver lace matched her short white mane, making her entire form appear almost disturbingly radiant. In spite of herself, Gina relished the way the silk felt against her skin and flowed down her form, whispering silently with every step she made. Thankfully, the dress was also long enough to hide her distinct lack of proper shoes.

She frowned, touching her chest where her scar was, now also mercifully hidden under the grey material.

_Hidden, not gone. It's all about keeping up appearances, isn't it?__ Yes, it is._

She studied her reflection thoughtfully through narrowed eyes. _Still, I think I could get used to this. For a time anyway._

"So?" Neeshka asked anxiously. "What do you think?"

Gina smirked. "You were right, I may yet live through this."

For a fraction of a second they both pouted in disappointment. Gina chuckled.

"Just kidding, sillies, it's perfect. I just hope I can walk in this without tripping."

"I'll be blessed if they don't deem you innocent just by the way you look," Neeshka giggled.

"Now, now, we don't want to make Sand unhappy, do we?"

"Indeed we do not. I in particular," came Sand's voice from the door. "Pardon me for not knocking, but…"

He paused, regarding Gina with wide eyes. A moment passed as the wizard was recovering from shock. Jaral sneaked into the room and started rubbing himself at Gina's dress, purring loudly. She bent down and stroked the cat affectionately.

"Well," Sand said slowly. "I must say I was not expecting this. Quite the change, my dear. And for the better, if I may add."

Gina bowed her head in a mock-curtsy, a mischievous smile on her lips.

"I am most glad it pleases you, my lord."

"Yes, yes. Very well…" The elf cleared his throat. "I'm afraid we have little time left for preparations. Lord Nasher's escort has already arrived."

"Escort?" Gina repeated, her brows furrowed. "Why pray tell would we need an escort? I haven't been found guilty yet if I remember correctly."

"Safety regulations, I'm afraid," Sand explained, and raised his hand silencing her protests before they even left her mouth. "And I strongly advise against arguing with them. Sir Nevalle is here too."

The distaste in his voice was clear when he mentioned the knight, and Gina allowed her expression to show her true feelings in this matter as well. Beside her Neeshka snorted, adapting a much less subtle approach.

"I thought Casavir gave me the holies, but that guy…" The tiefling shuddered. "He makes me want to crawl out of my skin and never come back."

"Neeshka!" Shandra scolded her.

"What, you in love with him or something?" Neeshka raised her eyebrows.

Shandra blushed.

"Of course not! I meant—"

"In love with Casavir or Nevalle?" Gina interjected in her most innocent tone. "I just want to be clear on this."

"That's a good question," Neeshka agreed. "Well, Shandra? Spit it out! The blondie or the pally?"

Shandra, her face red as a lobster, gave Gina a hateful look. Behind her Sand did his best to hide his smirk.

"As amusing as our dear Shandra's love life is, my ladies, I'm afraid we need to leave."

Gina nodded and with great effort suppressed a grin. "Let's go then."

Sand shook his head as the other two women turned to follow them.

"I'm afraid it is just Gina and me. Nasher's orders are very strict. The rest of you will have to rejoin us at the court."

Accompanied by Neeshka's muffled protests, Gina followed Sand into the common room. All her companions, as well as Duncan, Sal and a few customers were gathered in the middle, watching her with nervous smiles. She noticed a few pairs of eyes widen slightly at her new attire, making her feel less than uncomfortable in it. Duncan's bright smile, however, made it up to her.

"Your mother would be proud to see you, lass," he said, then frowned. "If only it were in different—"

"Don't finish that, I know," she chuckled and looked him in the eye. "I'd like to talk to you when I get back… if you don't mind."

Duncan nodded. "Aye, will do. Good luck to you. And Sand," he turned to the elf. "Take care of my niece if you know what's good for you, ya shifty little—"

"Why, Duncan, you seem to forget that I always keep my word. And in this case, I assure you that her well-being means more to me than any of your pathetic attempts at a threat."

Duncan seemed ready to retort, but Sand had already moved past the innkeeper, pulling Gina with him. She saw Casavir having a hushed conversation with Shandra, the woman's cheeks still slightly flushed, and smirked to herself. Pally, it was, then.

She reluctantly turned towards Sir Nevalle flanked by two armored guards by the front door, when a movement in the corner of the room caught her eye. Bishop.

The ranger emerged from the shadows and approached her slowly, breaking eye-contact with her only to gaze at her bodice approvingly.

"Nice," he said with his usual suggestive smirk.

"They made me wear it."

"I wasn't talking about the dress," Bishop pointed out, raising one eyebrow.

_Oh… should have seen that one coming._

Gina felt heat rising up deep inside her chest. She smirked back at him, ignoring the looks Duncan and Casavir were giving the ranger and Neeshka's quiet giggling.

Sir Nevalle cleared his throat, a little too loudly for her taste. She winced. So did Bishop.

Sand offered her his arm courteously.

"Shall we?"

She took his arm as gracefully as she managed, which was not easy as the elf was a head shorter than her.

"Lead on, Sand."

Bishop's gaze followed them as they swept towards the door and exited the inn, Nevalle and his guards in tow. She squeezed Sand's arm tighter. The wizard glanced at her sideways.

"Nervous, my dear client?"

"Like hell," she admitted. "But I also know that with you it's going to be pure fun."

He chuckled lightly and, as she noticed, a bit maliciously.

"Of that, dear girl, you can be sure. We will make Torio squirm."

"Sand?"

"Hmm? Yes?"

"Thank you for everything."

"Ah, my dear girl," he blushed to the tips of his pointed ears. "Do not thank me. It would just be embarrassing."

She smiled, feeling some of the tension leave her body, but not her mind.

Then she recalled the look in Bishop's smoldering wolfish eyes. With a familiar thrill she thought that, after all, wearing the dress was not a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all.


	6. Prophecies

_**A/N: **A slightly longer chapter to make up for the long wait (hopefully...). This is an attepmt at introducing the upcoming angst. I have mixed feelings about it, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated. I bake cheesecake for my reviewers, Bishop-shape optional! Enjoy, and happy New Year!_

OOO

Bishop eyed the guard in front of him with disgust. The man's armor bore the symbols of Nasher's elite guard but the timid look in his eyes belied his proud exterior. He was young, too young. He practically had 'rookie' written all over his forehead.

_Probably some noble's son._

Bishop sneered as he handed the man his bow and quiver, then unhurriedly unbuckled his sword belt and gave it away as well. The guard put the weapons on one of the many racks behind him, then turned back to Bishop, extending his arm once more. The ranger did not move.

"Bishop," a deep voice boomed behind him, its tone warning.

Bishop snorted. "Relax, paladin. Don't get your holy ass in a twist just yet." He bent down lazily and reached into his left boot, pulling out a dagger. He deftly flipped it in his fingers before handing it to the guard with a scowl. The man frowned, but motioned for him to move forward.

Only when he was inside the castle Bishop allowed himself a smirk. The greenhorn no doubt thought himself smart and the ranger decided to leave him with that illusion. There was no need to let anyone know about the dagger in his right boot after all.

He went straight ahead, intent on leaving the crowded antechamber as quickly as possible. A familiar shape caught his eye and he paused, turning his head ever so slightly. He spotted Elanee, standing in a secluded niche. The elven woman spared him a brief, dispassionate glance before turning to the smaller figure by her side. Bishop frowned, recognizing the boy they had supposedly saved from Ember's destruction. Only now did he recall that Marcus was supposed to be one of the witnesses at the trial. The enchanted dagger in the ranger's boot suddenly seemed heavier.

There was something about the kid…

For one, he did not look away at the mere sight of Bishop, as most people did. No… those unnaturally wise, piercing grey eyes were looking straight at him, at his innermost being, seeing right through his many poses, habits and masks, into the darkest corners of his soul. A cold shiver of unease crept across Bishop's spine. He did not like the idea of someone being able to _know_ him, of allowing anyone a glimpse of that part of himself even he did not want to see or remember. His lips instinctively curled into a wolf-like grimace as he glared at the boy, ready to scare him away. That did not seem to affect the kid in the slightest. Marcus freed his hand from Elanee's protective grasp and approached the ranger, ignoring the druidess' calling completely. Bishop stood still, feeling as though he had been nailed to the floor.

"You," Marcus said quietly, but Bishop could hear him clearly even through the noise the people around were making. "You saved my life, and for that I will share something with you. But it is for your ears alone."

"I didn't save your life, kid," the ranger growled irritably. "You saved yourself."

The boy continued as though he had not heard him. "The white-haired woman you travel with… she trusts you, but she does not know."

"Know what?"

Marcus' eyes stared straight into Bishop's, his voice gravely serious as he announced, "That you will betray her."

Bishop could swear his heart had stopped beating for the briefest of moments. The next words reached his ears as if through thick mist.

"You look at her and see yourself, as if in a mirror. You see what you could have become, were it not for…" The boy paused, searching for words, struggling to look deeper, but unable to breach some invisible barrier. His shook his head with a painful grimace. "You wish to have her trust and more. You wish to use her weaknesses against her when the time is right. You are afraid of what her presence means, afraid of what it makes you feel when you had long thought all feelings were lost to you. And that is why you want to betray her."

Bishop finally managed to overcome his initial shock. He squatted down, putting his hand heavily on the boy's shoulder.

"Listen kid," he hissed. "I don't know who or what gave you those ideas, but if you _ever_ tell this to anyone, I'm gonna find you and—"

"You would not kill me," Marcus responded calmly. "And don't worry, your secret is safe with me. But remember that if you choose to kill her, there will be no turning back. There will be no more hope for you."

A shadow covered the boy's face and Bishop looked up. Elanee stood above them, eyeing both with concern.

"Come, Marcus," she said gently, taking the boy by the hand and pulling him with her. "It is time."

She gave the ranger a strange, pondering look before turning away. Bishop watched them enter the courtroom, his heart beating frantically in his chest as the boy's words echoed inside his mind. He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself, ignoring the knot that seemed to have formed in his stomach. Marcus was just a kid, wasn't he? He knew nothing.

_Sure he doesn't. And your__ dagger's the proof._

He shook his head angrily and joined the line of people entering the room, wishing to be far away from this place even more than before. The crowd was already starting to give him a headache, and this was only the beginning.

Someone fell into step by his side. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the tiefling, a grin plastered on her face, tail whipping the air excitedly.

"This will be fun," she said to no one in particular.

Bishop muttered something unintelligible, passing her by.

_Like h__ells it will._

OOO

"I remember he used to be taller."

They all looked at Gina, her eyes trained on the bulky figure of a bald human stalking down the castle hall, watching him with something between cynical amusement and cold determination. Bishop felt something approaching respect for her. The way she looked at the man who was likely to be her death… without the slightest trace of fear.

"You know that ogre's son?" Qara asked incredulously. "How?"

"Long story, and probably not worth telling," Gina said dismissively. "We should head back to the Flagon. Duncan will like to know about what happened… and I need to change," she muttered, tugging at her dress impatiently.

Sand winced. "I assure you that the news has probably reached him already. Half of the city was present at the trial."

"Maybe if she had a decent lawyer it would be good news," Qara said, glaring viciously at the wizard.

"We did win, Qara. Torio obviously did her research, that's all." Gina looked at Sand and grinned. "But it was worth seeing her face when Nasher announced his verdict. You were great, Sand."

"Don't encourage him," Bishop grumbled as the elf suddenly appeared nearly twice his normal size. "Or we'll never hear the end to his bragging."

"Says the expert, hmm?" Sand shot back smoothly. Bishop had to resist the urge to make use of his concealed dagger.

"Are you sure he's gone?" Shandra looked around nervously as they paused by the guards to retrieve their weapons. "Gods, that man looked like a mountain."

"Gimme a minute, lass, and I'll cleave that mountain in half for ye!" Khelgar roared.

Bishop rolled his eyes and shoved his way to the head of the group, securing the quiver on his back and the sword on his hip. The last thing he needed to hear was yet another of the dwarf's tirades. He pushed open the heavy door and stormed outside.

They had to be quite a sight, he thought. Five misfit humans, two cryptic elves, a mad dwarf, a kleptomaniac tiefling, and an annoying gnome. All that was missing was an arena and some fancy music and there you have it – a circus. Maybe a wild cat or two to feed the gnome to… He chuckled to himself, amused by the mental images that thought brought.

Lost in fantasies full of Grobnar being torn apart, Casavir with an arrow in his forehead and, for some reason, a scantily clad Gina performing a belly dance, Bishop didn't even notice when he got separated from the rest of the group. He was already halfway down the hill leading from the castle to Merchants' District, while others tarried far behind him. Not that he had a problem with that. Solitude was something he found himself missing more and more often these days. He shrugged, ready to make for the Docks by himself. Then a scene at the top of the hill caused his blood to freeze in his veins.

There was that kid again, and this time he was walking next to Gina, of all people! Bishop felt his head spin as he suddenly realized all the possible implications of the fact.

_Did he tell her? How much? Godsdamnit, why was I so stupid!?_

He had to think fast. He had to find out how much she knew before it was too late.

_Too late __to what? To kill her?_

_Maybe. It doesn't matter now. I have to think. Think, damn it!_

Fuming, he pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and stepped into a darker alley, blending with the shadows. Wasn't that where he belonged in the first place?

OOO

_Gina rose from her knees slowly, not trusting her legs fully to hold her weight after what she had just been told._

"_When is this going to happen? Have you foreseen that?"_

_Marcus shook his head, his grey eyes still watching her intently. "I have not. I'm sorry."_

"_Don't be, it's just…" she gave a chuckle that sounded almost strangled. "I don't hear something like that every day, you know?"_

_The boy nodded in understanding. "The things I see rarely make people happy. Most of them are bad. Sometimes people think it's my fault that bad things happen to them. But I can't help it. I can't stop seeing them."_

_Gina looked at the boy sympathetically. In some ways, he reminded her of Kipp. There was very little child left in him. Just looking into his eyes was enough to realize they have seen more pain than most adults see in their whole life. What his life must have been like, cursed by the gods, feared and misunderstood by people? Was that a life at all? Was that fair?_

"_I don't think that's your fault, Marcus," she said, forcing a smile. "Tell you what… how about we ask Duncan to make you some hot chocolate? And some stew. I bet you're hungry."_

_Marcus considered her words for a while before hesitantly nodding his head. "I'd like that, Shard Bearer."_

_She managed not to cringe at the title. __"'Name's Gina. And I wouldn't mind some chocolate myself." She grinned suddenly, patting him on the shoulder, and reached down to pick up the hem of her dress. "Race you to the Flagon!"_

_There was an expression of infinite surprise on the boy's face, but finally his lips broke into a broad smile, probably his first in weeks. They both took off at considerable speed, laughing loudly._

OOO

Bishop studied the massive shape of the temple building in front of him with mixed feelings of loathing and apprehension. The former, because it was a temple of Tyr. The latter, because she was in there. There was also a third emotion, one he hadn't felt in years and part of him hoped never to feel it again. It was excitement; the kind of sickly joyous anticipation that made his skin crawl and his fingers itch. The assassin in him was awakening, and there was nothing he could do about it but to turn around and walk away. Except that was not really an option.

_There might be no need for this… yet. She may not know._

_Don't fool yourself. She talked to the kid. She may be even expecting you right now._

_How can I be sure?_

The voice in his head chuckled maliciously. _You're getting soft, Bishop. You and I both know there's only one way to make sure she stays silent._

_Shut up._

_Are you lusting after this woman so much that it has clouded your judgment already? If so, you're even more useless than her friends._

_Shut up! I know exactly what to do._

_If you say so. Just make sure you do it quickly. Your time is running out._

Repressing a growl, he pushed himself off of the tree he had been leaning against and gave Karnwyr a sign. The wolf's golden eyes flashed in the darkness as he moved to his position near the entrance, while Bishop pressed his back against the wall of the building, careful to keep to the shadows. He was fairly certain he could get into the temple and slip out by himself without any of the priests or visitors noticing, but it could never hurt to take precautions.

It was not long before he heard the telltale sounds of female banter coming from inside. The door was opened and two red-haired figures went out into the moonlight. Bishop caught enough of their conversation to understand they were discussing the superiority – or lack thereof – of poisoned daggers over a well-aimed fireball, before Karnwyr moved from his spot, distracting both women effectively.

"Don't touch that thing, Neeshka! It's almost as filthy as its master."

"Oh, shut up, Qara. You're just jealous of…"

Promising himself to deal with the sorceress later, the ranger slipped out of the shadows and into the still open doorway right before the door closed behind him with a dull thud.

Apart from a few torches on the far wall, the temple hall was pretty dark. And empty. He grinned in spite of himself. This was too easy. There was only one door with light seeping through the cracks in wood and Bishop had no trouble sneaking towards it, making little more sound than the falling dust.

He paused, his gloved hand an inch away from the brass doorknob. He could do what he came here for and be gone long before anyone would realize something was wrong. With one swift move he could free himself of this debt, once and for all. All it took was go in there and…

_And what?_

He touched the handle.

"_If you choose to kill her, there will be no turning back."_

He felt beads of sweat forming on his brow.

_I have to know for sure. Then I'll decide. That's right…_

Still painfully aware of his dagger's weight, he turned the handle and pushed at the door.

"_She trusts you, but…"_

A sharp intake of breath brought his mind back to the present. He looked up to see her in the centre of the chamber, frozen in the middle of a fighting move, a rapier in hand and a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead. He got the impression that she had indeed been expecting him, although not in the way he had thought she would…

"I was wondering if you would show up." She lowered her weapon offering him a slight smile. "If only to point out the irony."

"Irony?" he raised an eyebrow, careful not to let his expression betray how anxious he felt as he slowly closed the door behind him.

She laughed, a light, almost cheerful sound. Bishop did not miss the sultry undertone to it that always made his blood rush.

"That I'm going to get my fight after all. I'll have to be more careful what I wish for in the future… if I have one."

She had guts, he had to hand her that. Wordlessly, he watched her move towards a small bench where the rest of her equipment lay. Seemingly paying no mind to his staring, she sheathed her rapier, then picked up a piece of clean cloth and wiped her face and neck with it. The loose white shirt she was wearing clung to her damp skin in a way that was very flattering to her shape. Bishop forced himself to focus on her face instead. This wasn't the best time for thoughts like that…

"So you know Lorne," he stated more than asked to break the silence.

"Aye, I do." She paused to rummage through her things, eventually finding a water skin. She raised it to her lips and took a few gulps while Bishop greedily drank in the sight of her exposed throat. She swallowed and unceremoniously wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Which is just as ironic, to be honest."

He took a cautious step towards her. "Why's that?"

She looked at him, all trace of good mood suddenly gone from her stance as she sat heavily on the bench. "He's a Harborman," she said blankly.

Bishop froze in his step. "Is he now?"

Gina nodded. "He disappeared from the village some eleven years ago when he went to fight in the war with Luskan. He was something of a role model for me back then. Retta… his mother asked me to look for him when she learned I was going to Neverwinter. She refused to believe he was dead. And she was right, only…" She went silent, shaking her head and squeezing her hands into fists.

"Only you didn't think he's one of those dogs now," Bishop finished absently, sitting next to her. He knew he should have left it at that, but he found himself unable to stop talking. "They know how to convert people to their cause. I should know."

She raised her head, regarding him curiously. He nearly ripped his tongue out at that moment, but forced himself to continue with even tone.

"I used to serve in their army and I can tell you there's no worse job than that. If you survive one assignment the next one'll be even worse, and before you know it they'll be trying to take over your life and make your decisions for you. Not really my thing, you know?"

He glanced at her. She was listening attentively, never taking her eyes off his face.

"That's why you hate them so much?"

"Damn right it is," he spat. "Nobody's gonna order me around and tell me what to do, and by the Hells, if they try, they'd better know when to run."

She winced, staring at the floor. "So we both have a reason to hate them, then."

Something about her words struck him, making all thought of his original purpose for coming to the temple perish from his mind.

"Sure looks like it," he muttered, staring at her numbly. Why? Why was it so damn hard to hate her? Why did it have to be _her_?

"You're gonna fight him, then?" he asked.

She nodded grimly. "I'm not exactly thrilled about it, but yes. He's not the same Lorne I used to know. And I have a feeling he won't rest until I'm dead, for whatever reason."

"You don't have to, you know."

She blinked at him. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." Bishop straightened up, avoiding her gaze. "I could take your place. I've been watching him, I know how he fights."

He couldn't look at her, but he could feel her unblinking stare upon him as she considered his words.

"Why?"

He glanced down and was surprised to see her hand gently squeezing his forearm. He shifted, struggling to maintain his neutral pose.

"To be honest, I don't know. Guess I just feel like killing him."

"That makes the two of us." She chuckled quietly, as if amused by her own words. "I'll handle him. If what Marcus told me is true, then whatever happens tomorrow won't matter anyway."

Bishop fought the impulse to yank his arm out of her grasp, and it took all of his self-control to keep his face emotionless.

"What—" he began and nearly cursed aloud hearing the hoarse sound of his voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. "What'd the kid tell you?"

She did not speak for a long moment, and he found it hard to ignore the itching of his palms as his right hand slipped towards his boot, almost without an act of will on his part. After what seemed like a small eternity to him, Gina's eyes sought his. He could not recognize the intention behind her deep blue gaze, but the corner of her lips twitched slightly in a cynical half-smirk, half-grimace.

"He said I was going to die."

Bishop had to remind himself to breathe. "How?"

She shrugged and suddenly averted her eyes, as though ashamed. "I don't know. Something about shadow and… oh, Hells, I don't even know why it bothers me so much! It's not like it's something new to me. Georg always told me I would not die of old age."

"Can't say I'm surprised," Bishop managed. "You've gotta be the most suicidal woman I've met."

Unexpectedly to him, she laughed out loud at that, playfully slapping him across the thigh.

"Damn, how is it that you always know the right words to…" She shook her head, meeting his eyes once more. "Are you sure you still want to travel with me, then?"

"As long as I get free ale and something to kill," he drawled, eyeing her carefully. "I may yet enjoy this family blackmail of yours."

She did not respond, but somehow he sensed she was content with his answer. He watched as she leaned back against the wall, her eyes shut, and this time allowed his gaze to slip below her neckline, to the soft curves her clothing failed to conceal. So exposed… was she just testing him, or did she truly believe she had nothing to fear from him? Would she let him get this close if she suspected anything? Was she telling the truth about Marcus?

He imagined how easy it would be to slit her white throat open and shuddered. All of a sudden, the thought was replaced by an image of his own lips on that throat and his dagger slicing through the fabric of her shirt. Bishop dug his fingernails into his palm, almost drawing blood, but the pain was not nearly enough to distract him.

Gina's chest rose and fell as she inhaled deeply. "So what do you think my chances are?"

He thought for a while, thankful that she could not see him.

"Hard to say," he said slowly. "Lorne may be big, but he's pretty sluggish with that falchion of his. You fight with speed and agility, so as long as you manage to hit him without getting hit you should be fine. That ought to piss him off enough to make him lose control, and from there, he should make an easy target."

She nodded, her eyes still closed. "Anything else?"

"Well," he grinned to himself, placing his hand on the wall, next to her head. "I could always make your last moments more pleasant."

She gave a snort that sounded suspiciously like laughter, but otherwise did not move. "Your faith in my abilities warms my heart, Bishop."

"Faith's not my strong suit," he murmured, leaning over her so that she could feel his breath on her face. "I like to enjoy the simple things in life."

This time she opened her eyes, and Bishop took no small pleasure in seeing that her breathing had become a little harder. He leaned in closer and she smiled, raising one eyebrow as she boldly looked up at him, her lips parted invitingly.

"Why, so do I."

The sound of heavily booted feet treading on the stone floor brought them back to reality. Gina's brow furrowed in irritation as Bishop backed away from her, only a second before the door opened and Casavir strode into the chamber.

_And so the knight in shining arm__or saves the damsel in distress_, Bishop thought angrily.

The paladin seemed to hold his breath at the sight of him, but collected himself quickly. He gave a courteous bow.

"Gina, I… I hope I did not disturb your conversation," he said, although the tone of his voice indicated clearly the he did not mean it.

"It's all right, Cas," Gina's tone mildly suggested that she did not mean this either. "We've just…" she glanced at Bishop sideways, the slightest smirk upon her lips, "finished discussing my strategy."

The ranger scowled. "_My_ strategy is to kill that twit," he muttered under his breath. Gina coughed, covering her mouth with her hand.

Bishop slowly rose from the bench. "And I was just leaving." He ignored Casavir's icy glare and nonchalantly walked towards the door, smirking to himself.

"Take my advice and don't die, m'lady," he called, glancing back at Gina. "It'd be a shame, seeing as there's still so much left for us to… _discuss_."

She stifled a grin. "I'll do my best."

"Don't you always," he leered, chuckling inwardly as Casavir noticeably stiffened, hearing their exchange. Gina would surely get a good talking to as soon as he was out of earshot, but that wasn't his problem anymore.

He left the temple feeling strangely light-hearted. It was a foreign emotion, and as soon as he paused to consider it, doubt and unease crept back into his mind.

_I almost killed her…_

_So?_

_She doesn't know._

_Yet._

_What if—_

_The day will come, Bishop. Be ready when it does. Don't forget why you're here._

Bishop shook his head. That was not the problem, was it? No, she wouldn't be the first. What _did_ worry him, was that – much to his own shock – he believed her.

He believed every word.


	7. When Heroes Die

**A/N:** -emerges from the shadows- So the angry mob under my window finally got me and made me update. ;) To my defense, this is a loooong chapter, and the next one should be up shortly. It took forever to write and I'm still not sure if I got everything right, so feedback is as always appreciated. I'd like to thank everyone from the bottom of my heart for all the reviews, faves and alerts. They really make me happy. I hope you enjoy this chapter. There is quite a bit of violence in it, so I hereby rate it M, just to be on the safe side. I took some liberties with the pre-fight scenes. I know it's supposed to be Shandra and Grobnar escorting the KC, but I wanted Casavir to have his five minutes. So there. ;) -slips back into the shadows-

**PS:** some changes made, because I uploaded the wrong document the first time...

OOO

_Thick morning mist fought against the few rays of sunlight that broke through the trees, drowning West Harbor in a nearly unnatural-looking glow. Tarmas looked away from the weeping willow just outside his window, feeling his permanent state of depression catching up to him again. Despite his constant grumbling, it was not the swamp itself that bothered him so much. West Harbor was not a bad place to live – or at least not the worst one available – although he would rather eat his own staff than admit it to anyone._

_It was the thought of all the nasty things lurking behind that curtain of mist that made him uneasy._

_The problem with Harbormen was that they refused to believe Faerûn was full of creatures even more__ stubborn than they were. Come to think of it, it _was_ rather hard to believe… but he knew better. He feared there would come a time when there would be no one left to rebuild from the ruins and yank the land back from the Mere's clutches… and the force able to break the will of these people would be a dreadful one indeed…_

_With an ill-concealed sigh, the wizard turned his attention back to his student, a ten-year-old fair-haired girl sitting at the worn desk next to the window. The quill in her hand screeched against paper as she wrote the words of a spell, her expression one of absolute focus. Once she finished, she carefully put down the quill and looked up at him expectantly. Tarmas eyed the sheet and nodded._

"_Very good, Amie. Now practice the gestures I've shown you yesterday."_

_The girl's lively__ brown eyes sparkled. "Yes, Master."_

_Tarmas watched his student's fingers trail a fairly simple pattern in the air, when a quiet giggle made him turn around. He sighed heavily__, spotting the source of the sound. He had almost forgotten about her._

_A skinny__ girl with a wild mop of snow white hair sat curled in the corner between two large bookshelves, a fat tome in her hands. Tarmas had discovered long ago that Daeghun's child had – unlike young Amie – absolutely no talent for arcane arts. It was almost as if there was something _inside_ the girl that did not allow her to channel magical energy. That, however, never stopped her from paying frequent visits to the wizard's house where she spent hours on end sifting through his books. Works on geography, weaponry and both, magical and non-magical monsters seemed to be her main focus, but she had recently developed a strong penchant for adventure stories. Right now, she was busy reading the history of a famous female pirate of the Sword Coast._

_Tarmas hadn't even realized he had anything like that in his humble library._

_He was not sure if he approved of it, but he had to admit it was a good thing the girl read anything at all, especially with her foster father paying little to no attention to her education, excluding survival and fighting. Perhaps she would not grow up to be a complete savage after all._

_Tarmas shook his head. Maybe he was being too hard on Daeghun. He had a deep respect for the quiet elf, and understood his need for privacy only too well. No doubt there was a good reason for the ranger to act the way he did, and the fact his daughter was infuriatingly perky and curious surely wasn't helping matters._

_The wizard winced and repressed yet another sigh. At least reading kept her quiet most of the time._

"_Master…" Amie gave a surprised gasp. He spun around to see the space between her palms glow faintly._

"_What are you waiting for, girl?" he urged. "Recite the spell."_

_She obeyed, the foreign words rolling off her tongue with surprising ease. The air between her delicate hands grew brighter, finally exploding into a brilliant ball of white light. With a quiet sigh, the girl let it float above her head, illuminating the room. Tarmas felt pride well up inside him. It was the simplest, most basic spell all young wizards were taught, yet the fact that Amie was successful at first try spoke volumes. She clearly had magic in her blood._

"_Genie! Genie, look!" she called, although it was unnecessary as the other girl had already jumped to her feet, clapping her hands excitedly._

"_Would you become my mage when I have my own ship, Amie?" she asked, beaming at her friend. "We would sail the seas together and—"_

"_What about Bevil?" Amie sounded concerned._

_The other girl appeared thoughtful for a few seconds.__ "He could be my officer, of course," she announced, grinning. "We'd be invincible together!"_

_Amie began to laugh, but silenced quickly under Tarmas' stare. The wizard cleared his throat.__ "Stop this nonsense about ships and seas right now," he scolded, giving them both a stern look. "You, my student, still have much to learn, and you, young lady, are disturbing her."_

_Suddenly the front door burst open and a young boy came running into the house, along with a large amount of mud and cold, early spring air._

"_Gina… Amie…" he panted, but closed his mouth as soon as he spotted the wizard._

_Tarmas groaned. "What could be urgent enough to make you march into my house uninvited, young Starling? This had better be important."_

_The boy seemed to visibly shrink as he tried to avoid his gaze.__ "I… it's Lorne…" he stuttered. "He's just come back from the Mere and… the lizardfolk… you have to see this!"_

"_Lorn__e is back?" The white-haired girl was immediately by the boy's side. "Where is he? What happened?"_

_Tarmas raised a hand to his forehead. This was bound to give him another migraine. He eyed the two with exasperation.__ "Whatever that might have been," he said firmly, "you may just as well discuss it outside my house. And don't forget to take the mud with you."_

"_Sorry, Tarmas," they muttered in unison and turned to leave, but paused, looking hopefully at Amie who was still standing by the desk, casting inquiring looks at her mentor._

_Tarmas knew when to admit he had been defeated. Reluctantly, he nodded.__ "If you wish to participate in this obvious madness, my student, you may join these two little barbarians. You did well today."_

_She smiled at him gratefully as Gina grabbed her hand. "Thank you, Master."_

_The trio rushed out of the house, quickly disappearing into the mist. The wizard glanced around. Were it not for the dirty stains on his floor, he would have thought the children had never been there at all._

_Alone in the blessed silence of his home, Tarmas could not help the slightest smile. It died quickly on his lips, however, as he noticed the thin threads of mist pouring through the open door, swirling around him in a hypnotic dance be__fore they dissipated in the air._

OOO

For some inexplicable reason, Ches had always been one of her favourite months, especially after the Spring Equinox had already passed. The misty mornings were still chilly and crisp enough to remind of winter, while the distant blaze of the sun carried with it a promise of warmth and comfort. Reveling in both, the snug embrace of the mist, and the faint prickling the first shy rays of sunlight sent across her skin, Gina felt almost cheerful as she stepped out of the temple into the morning light.

_Such a beautiful day to die._

Before she even had a chance to consider the thought, two figures emerged from the mist and headed her way. She groaned inwardly as she recognized them. Sir Nevalle and Sir Grayson. If the welcoming committee was any indication of how the day would progress, she probably should not have gotten up at all.

But she could not do that, could she? There was work to be done, appearances to be kept up… people to be killed. She winced, not caring if they noticed it. And why should she, if she just as well could find herself in Kelemvor's loving embrace the next hour? No, she would not deprive herself of the pleasure of seeing Nevalle's oh so perfect features twist in distaste… _yes, like that._

"It is time," the knight said. Apparently, among members of the Neverwinter Nine this passed for 'good morning'. She couldn't help but notice how careful he was to keep his gaze just past her face. "Lord Nasher awaits us at the tourney grounds."

"It is a great honor to die for one's country," Sir Grayson cut in. "You should be proud, squire."

_Well, how's that for encouragement?_ Gina thought, cringing inside even more, while a voice that sounded suspiciously like Bishop's added: _Honor, my ass._

At that she simply had to smile, and even made it look genuine enough that Sir Grayson's eyes widened in surprise at her reaction. She did not pay much attention to Nevalle's words as he continued to convey whatever Nasher had told him to, only quirking an eyebrow in amusement as the words, "reward", "nobility" and "land" were mentioned. They really had to be quite desperate to get the Luskans out of the city. As if it hadn't been enough that she and Cormick had spent the entire winter infiltrating their ranks – or hacking trough them, as the case had been.

Instead of dwelling on the matter, she focused on double-checking her equipment, making sure the buckles on her leathers were fastened properly and her rapier was loose enough in its sheath to be pulled out quickly if needed. Finally, she adjusted her wide-brimmed hat, tilting it just a little, and gave the two knights her best confident smile.

"Shall we, gentlemen?"

Just as they passed the temple's gates, another, tall figure appeared in sight. Gina heaved a sigh of relief as Casavir approach them. Perhaps the way ahead would be bearable after all.

"May I escort the lady as well?" the paladin asked, inclining his head slightly, although the look in his eyes was cold as he and Nevalle stared at each other through half-closed eyelids.

Not waiting for the other men to respond, Gina grabbed Casavir's hand and pulled him towards her until they fell in step together, behind the knights.

"Sure you may, Cas. I couldn't have been more glad to see you," she said, sincerely.

She was answered by a raised eyebrow and a slight smirk as the paladin looked down at her. "More than yesterday evening, I presume?"

She punched him lightly on the shoulder. "I thought we've already been through this."

"Have we?" His expression suddenly became serious and he lowered his voice. "I've tried to warn you, Gina, but there is only so much I can do without interfering. And since you have made it clear you do not wish me to interfere, I suppose I will have to continue trying to awaken your better judgement."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Casavir, do you really think this is the best time to talk about it? You know, with me marching towards my ultimate doom and all?"

He sighed. "You are right, of course. But please, bear in mind what I said. Bishop—"

"Bishop is my problem," she interrupted impatiently, wincing as she took in the look of concern in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Cas, but we've got other things to worry about right now. At least I do."

He frowned. "Are you certain you don't want me to fight in your stead?"

Gina felt the corners of her lips lift a little. "He asked me that too, you know?"

The sheer incredulity and shock on his face nearly made her laugh out loud. His frown deepened. "Please, be careful, Gina. I'm saying this as your friend. I don't know what he is up to, but I won't stand idly by and let him use you to his own ends."

"Use me to his own ends?" her eyebrows shot upwards in faked astonishment. "Casavir, that's the most elaborate definition of a tumble I ever heard."

She was rewarded with the sight of his cheeks turning crimson. "Perhaps I was wrong," he muttered. "Perhaps you don't need my counsel in… these matters."

Gina whistled, an innocent smirk dancing on her lips. "How about you worry about Shandra for a while instead, huh?"

His head snapped around so quickly she barely registered the movement, the coloring still present in his face. "What do you mean by that?"

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough," she replied with a wink that went unnoticed as Casavir stared ahead with an expression of utter puzzlement. He did not speak anymore for the rest of the way.

OOO

The tourney grounds were bustling with activity – and nearly unbearable noise coming from hundreds of throats at once. As Gina's eyes carefully scanned the place, she finally felt the nervousness, that had previously eluded her, tie her insides into a tight knot.

What was taking them so long?

As if reading her thoughts, Casavir put a steady hand on her shoulder. "Lord Nasher no doubt wants this event to be a show for all of the city. He is building the crowd's anticipation on purpose."

Gina scoffed at the highest place in the tribunes, where the city's ruler was supposed to sit. "A show. Typical of him. And what if I lose?"

"It is a hazard he has chosen to take," Casavir said with just the slightest undercurrent of derision in his voice. "And while I can understand the need for it, I do not agree with his methods. I'm sorry this is happening at your expense, Gina."

"Doesn't matter," she muttered, averting her eyes as she fumbled with the fastening of her belt. "I just want to get this over with."

"Squire Gina Bendon!" a squeaky male voice called out.

"Here," Gina said, grudgingly assuming her role, as a short, average looking man approached them. He was twisting a parchment in his hands, casting anxious glances at the arena, and she had to wonder how he even got the job in the first place. The man cleared his throat.

"Are you or your Champion ready?" he asked. Behind him, a loud cheer could be heard as Lord Nasher took his seat on the throne prepared for him. Gina winced at the sound. What the hells were they cheering for?

Casavir's grip on her shoulder tightened slightly and she turned to face him. "I will go and join the others," the paladin said, his eyes solemn as they sought hers. "I trust you know what you are doing. May the gods watch over you."

Gina forced a smile on her face as she returned his gaze. "They'd better. See you later, Cas."

She reached for his forearm, squeezing it briefly, and he mirrored the gesture, nodding once in reply. She could tell by the way his fingers closed around her elbow, that he was far more nervous than he was letting on. When they both let go, Gina turned to the attendant.

"I'm ready," she announced evenly. "I will fight for myself."

The short man looked about ready to faint. "Good," he squeaked in a high-pitched voice and cleared his throat again. "Good. If you would follow me, my lady—"

Before he managed to finish, Gina brushed past him and, with one last glance at Casavir, made her way towards the arena portal. She could hear the nervous man trot behind her, unsuccessfully trying to match her long, purposeful strides, then stop abruptly as she stepped into the arena. There was a sudden feeling of heat on her back as a wall of fire was lit in the entrance, sealing off her escape.

_As if I'd want to._

The constant hum of the crowd seemed more subdued here, drowned out by the tall walls surrounding the round field, and Gina almost sighed with relief. Above her, Judge Oleff began to say something in a strong, steady voice, but she wasn't really paying attention, her eyes searching the tribunes for the rest of her companions.

Surprisingly, the first to catch her eye was Cormick's broad face, next to Captain Brelaina's beautiful but stern one in the first row. Gina stood up straight and saluted them, smiling lightly. Cormick's face lit up for a moment as he saluted her, while Brelaina gave a slight, acknowledging nod, her expression unreadable.

Some distance to the right she saw Shandra. The blonde woman's face was twisted in a grimace that betrayed nervousness and fear, but upon seeing Gina broke into a forced smile. Gina reached up to her hat in another, joking salutation, knowing full well that it would make Shandra roll her eyes in exasperation at her antics. Then Casavir came into view, taking a seat next to the woman, and Gina had to look away not to grin at Shandra's suddenly reddened face. One day she would have to ask him about that 'paladin charm.'

Her gaze shifted further, finally coming to rest on Qara, the sorceress' customary expression of bored annoyance very much in place. She gave Gina a look that said, without doubt, 'You were a fool to turn down my help and now you're going to die. Too bad.'

Next to the girl sat Elanee, looking somewhat lost, but also displaying a subtle aura of detached interest. For some reason, it made her think of Daeghun and she shook her head. Wood elves were an eternal mystery to her. It was nigh impossible to guess what they were thinking, much less understand their motives.

Sand was so much easier to deal with, she thought as her eyes found the wizard. Even from her standpoint she could see his perfect lips curled in a disgusted grimace, his gaze fixed on some point next to Lord Nasher's throne, and she didn't even have to look to guess that was where Torio Claven was sitting.

Nor did she want to.

Further to the right, Khelgar was flanked by Neeshka and Grobnar, the tiefling and the gnome chatting animatedly and gesturing wildly with their hands, much to the dwarf's frustration, no doubt emphasized by the fact he had to leave his beloved axe behind for the event. Good old Khelgar, always ready to run headfirst into the first fight available, but one could hardly hope for a better companion. Gina cast him a reassuring grin.

Finally, her eyes fell upon Bishop, standing slightly apart and above the rest, alertly scanning his surroundings. He was dressed in his new leathers, and Gina found it extremely hard to look away.

It really did look good on him.

Like a predator sensing his prey, the ranger's attention suddenly turned to her. She had anticipated it, but it still made her pulse accelerate ever so slightly as his amber eyes bored into hers. He always seemed to know he was being watched, as if some sixth sense told him exactly which way to turn his head. And perhaps that was the case indeed.

Bishop's lips twitched in a knowing smirk.

"_Take my advice and don't die, m'lady."_

Gina grinned back up at him.

_You can be sure of that, ranger._

It seemed the judge had finally stopped talking, bringing her attention back to the arena itself. Taking a deep breath, she started walking towards the center, forcing herself to hold her head up high and confident, her stride as even as possible with the sand giving way beneath her boots with each step.

It was a highly practical solution. Even discolored by a liberal amount of blood and other unpleasant fluids, the sand could be easily swept under another layer and left to dry, until everything was nice and tidy again. Except it wasn't. She really doubted they had bothered to fill the arena anew after each fight. With that cheering thought in mind, she kept her eyes firmly on the opposite entrance, heart starting to hammer in her chest.

_Lady Luck, smile upon me. I'm going to need it._

This was no usual fight. This was Lorne Starling. Or rather – what remained of the man she once knew.

And suddenly there he was, his massive figure filling almost the entire portal, only emphasized by the flames and smoke that burst from where he had been standing a few seconds before. The dark blade of the large, menacing falchion he wielded with startling ease gleamed faintly with a greenish light, no doubt a result of powerful enchantments.

Yet somehow Gina still could not shake the impression he had looked much more impressive back then, in West Harbor, standing tall and terrifying, surrounded by…

…_heads. Severed heads of fallen lizardmen __lay in a heap in the middle of the market square, lifeless eyes blank and staring into nothing._

_Gina stopped in her tracks and inhaled sharply, staring at the unexpected discovery with wide eyes. She almost fell over as something heavy hit her back, turning around to see Bevil, his face red from their brief run from Tarmas' house. Amie emerged from behind him, her straw blonde hair tousled, dark brown eyes glittering. Wordlessly, Gina pointed in the direction of the macabre scene, watchi__ng her friend's face as an almost identical yelp of surprise escaped her lips._

_A sudden shout from the other side of the market made them look that way. Georg Redfell appeared in sight, his arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture as he walked up to the group of three men at whose feet the bizarre trophies lay. As if drawn further, Gina started walking towards them, hearing Bevil and Amie's quickened breathing mingling with her own as they approached the scene to examine it more closely. Bevil tapped her on the shoulder, a proud grin on his face._

"_Told you," he said. "Lorne's always back with a surprise."_

_She grinned back and nodded. They came to __a halt barely a foot away from the heap of lizardman heads, staring in awe. The smell of blood now hit their nostrils with full force, and Gina looked down to the ground, to where it had poured over the cobble stones, creating small crimson puddles between them. Her stomach suddenly felt slightly uneasy. With her foster father being a skilled hunter and skinner, she was used to the sight of blood and dead animals, but this… this was somehow different. The lizardmen were not animals… at least that was what she read in one of Tarmas' books._

_Amie made a retching sound and retreated a few steps back, covering her__ mouth and nose, but refused to turn away from the sight. Gina glanced at Bevil who looked slightly pale now, too, but stood bravely by her side, staring ahead with the same sick fascination she felt. Then she looked up and saw him._

_Bevil's brother, Lorne,__ stood tall and proud among the men, towering above them. She had to lift her head a good deal to look at his face, but when she did, she saw the strange, feral light burning in his eyes. His militia armor and the large sword at his belt were spattered with a generous amount of blood. Some of it was even on his face and in his hair._

_It was the most glorious sight Gina had ever beheld. A mighty warrior, surrounded by his fallen enemies, fearless and victorious._

"_They ambushed us outside the ruins while we camped," Lorne's voice thundered as he spoke to __Georg. "We've almost lost Kellen and Rita, but some druids took care of them."_

_Georg clenched his jaw and gnashed his teeth, his eyes cast down. "Cyric's blood! This time they've __gone too far, openly attacking our people! This can't continue."_

_The large man nodded. "We barely managed to get out alive." He grinned as he motioned at the heads. "But these won't be causing us trouble again."_

_Georg's eyes fell on the bloody pile at their feet and only now did he seem to notice Gina, Bevil and Amie._

"_Oh, by the nine hells, Lorne, the children shouldn't be seeing this!__ Why did you bring this in here?_

_Lorne laughed as he pulled Bevil to his side and playfully tousled the boy's hair. "They're no cowards, Georg. In a few years they'll join the militia themselves and kill their share of these beasts."_

_Georg shook his head. "I fear you may be right. Nevermind that, just clean up this mess. Some merchants from Highcliff are to arrive today and I don't want to scare them off. And no more trips to the ruins for anyone, not even the patrols."_

_Lorne looked surprised. "Have you gone mad, Georg? With enough people we could wipe them out of there for good!"_

"_Don't fool yourself, Lorne," Georg said as he looked up at the taller man confidently, his eyes hard. "They are too many and those ruins are too damned dangerous. I'm not risking the life of my people foolishly, and neither should you. Nobody's even going near that place without my direct permission, is that clear?"_

_Lorne simply glared at him, but his expression softened a little as Georg smiled, patting the three men on the shoulders. "But you've done a fine job, boys. Those lizards will think twice before approaching the village again."_

_Lorne continued to look at the other man without a word before finally nodding with a noncommittal grunt. "I hope you know what you're doing, Georg."_

"_Don't you worry about that. And come over to the tavern later, all of you. We've got enough reasons for a celebration!"_

_At that, Gina jumped, beaming up at Lorne. "Will you tell us how you fought them, Lorne?" she asked hopefully._

"_And then teach us!" Bevil added. "Last time you promised to train with us again."_

_Lorne's laughter rumbled across the square as he looked down at them. "Fine," he said, amused. "If you two let me eat first, I'll teach you everything I know."_

And teach them he did.

Gina tried to shake the vivid memory as she finally came to stand face to face with the last man she had expected to ever face in a fight. His now clean shaven head glimmered in the morning sunlight, his hateful, feral gaze fixed upon her, unmoving, as if anticipating her every motion.

_He did use to be taller._

"Long time no see, Lorne."

His eyes narrowed dangerously and he all but spat in her face. "Not a word from you, pawn of Neverwinter. Do you think I'll spare your worthless life because I knew you? You're wrong, little girl. I'm here to spill your blood, nothing else!"

She snorted. "And what are _you_? Pawn of Luskan? Torio's footrest? I have news for you, Lorne. This little girl is not so little anymore, and she can take care of herself. You taught me how, remember?"

He gritted his teeth nearly audibly and she could see his jaw tremble as his muscles tensed. "I will rend your flesh from your bones and make you eat those words!"

"You mean how you made short work of Cormick in the Harvest Fight?" she taunted, struggling to remain outwardly calm. "Good job, that. And you know what? He's here, watching us right now. Bet he's happy to see you."

Gina could see how carefully he tried to keep the look of surprise off his face, but she did not miss the slightest movement of his eyeballs as he stole a glance at the tribunes. She felt a surge of grim satisfaction, but the small triumphant smirk was wiped from her lips as Lorne turned to her and let out a thunderous roar, the kind of which she had not even heard from Khelgar in the worst of their battles.

"You will die, little girl," he said. "And I'm going to enjoy making you bleed."

She met his spiteful stare firmly, with more boldness than she actually felt. "We'll see about that, won't we?"

"Fighters, begin!" Lord Nasher's voice rolled above their heads…

…and suddenly she was flying, then rolling over on the sand, forced to dodge a treacherous blow of Lorne's falchion. She finished the movement and leapt back to her feet, drawing her rapier and crouching into a defensive stance, cursing silently. She should have guessed he would not even give her the chance to draw her weapon before he attacked. He was also quicker than she had anticipated. But she would not let him use that element of surprise again, oh no.

She spun around as he circled her, the first faintest trace of mindless fury crossing his features like an approaching storm cloud. She would have to move fast and bide her time. The longer she managed to avoid his attacks without engaging in direct fight, the better. She could be patient, if she really wanted to. It was one of the things she had learned from Daeghun without him even knowing.

Lorne lunged at her, his sword held firmly in front of him, sunlight sparkling off its jagged edge. She focused on that edge, standing very still as he drew closer, then, in the last moment, danced out of his reach. She dropped to one knee, half-turning as his massive figure rushed past her, her rapier shooting forward in a single well-aimed thrust. Lorne howled in helpless rage as the attack caught the back of his thigh. He whirled around, his falchion cutting the air where her head should have been.

Only she wasn't there anymore.

_Gina watched Lorne whirl around in surprise, looking at her, then at the spot on the ground where she __had been only seconds before, then back at her again. Slowly, a grin spread on his face as he rubbed his backside where the point of her practice sword had caught him. She couldn't suppress a proud grin herself._

"_Getting slower, old guy?"_

_He laughed. "You just wait, little girl. You'll get yours."_

"_Like you can catch me," she smirked, ignoring the nickname._

"_I went easy on you this time," he replied smugly, and somehow she knew that it was the truth. It put a little damper on her momentary euphoria. "But you're quick, I'll give you that," Lorne continued. "Maybe we'll make a warrior out of you yet." He turned his head to the young man behind him. "Your turn, brother. Let's see what you've learned."_

"_The longsword might be too heavy for her, with that speed," came Cormick's voice as the man entered the practice grounds. "Maybe we should find her something lighter."_

_Gina eyed him curiously. "Like what?"_

_Cormick__ shrugged. "We'll think of something. I know a good smith in Fort Locke." His eyes focused on Lorne. "Georg wants to have a word with us."_

_The large man nodded and turned to the dozen young recruits. "Find yourself a partner and keep practicing until I get back. Try not to kill each other, and that goes especially for you, Mossfeld," he frowned and followed Cormick._

_Gina watched them leave, then looked around to find that she and Bevil were the only ones still without a sparring partner. She grinned at her friend._

"_Care to dance, Bev?"_

"_Sure," he smiled back, a little bashfully. Then, with an unexpected twinkle in__ his eye added: "I _won't_ go easy on you."_

_She laughed, raising her weapon. "Bring it on!"_

She was rolling on the ground again, clutching her weapon to her chest, hearing Lorne's muffled insults through the pounding of blood in her ears. Tymora help her, that was close. It was a wonder her hat had stayed in place.

When she was certain she had put enough distance between her and her opponent, she sprang back up, swearing inwardly as she realized the wall was now behind her, only two feet away. This would not do at all. If Lorne had her backed up against it, she would have no chance of parrying his heavy blows with her rapier. She needed to find a way to stay in the open, where she could evade and jump unhindered.

Lorne was coming at her again, this time slower, barely repressed fury flickering in his eyes; eyes that were so much like Bevil's, and yet so very different. Gina could see the blood seeping out of the wound in his thigh staining the sand behind him, but there was no trace of pain on his face. Not even a catch in his step as he moved gradually nearer.

Equally slow, holding out her weapon in a surprisingly steady hand, she started to move sideways, her eyes darting between her opponent's face and blade. They began to circle each other, their feet solidly on the ground, their steps even.

"I'll carve my name in your skin, girl," Lorne gritted out, mockingly. "And while you're still breathing, too."

Gina was surprised at the steadiness of her voice as she muttered: "Bring it on."

He charged, a ferocious snarl erupting from his throat. She waited, her brain working feverishly, looking desperately for some solution. _Any_ solution. Frantic shouts from above reached her ears and she imagined her friends getting up from their seats, yelling in panic, urging her to move.

But she did not; not until Lorne was little more than the blade's length away. Then she suddenly flew back, closing the distance between her and the wall until she felt her back press against the stone. Digging her heels in the sand, she strained her muscles, jumping and lifting both her knees to her chest just as Lorne's falchion was about to pierce her stomach. With all the strength she could muster she fiercely kicked out, both booted feet hitting him squarely on the chest.

Clearly caught by surprise by that maneuver, Lorne swayed back, but kept his balance. For a short moment though, he waved his hands in the air, struggling to remain standing. That was all Gina needed. Using the footing his body provided, she retracted one foot and aimed another kick at his face.

His head flew backwards, blood spurting out of broken nose. He staggered backwards, holding his face, howling, although it was hard to tell if it was in rage or in pain. Gina lost her support and landed awkwardly on her feet, holding the rapier in front of her defensively as she carefully sidestepped Lorne, putting distance between the wall and herself.

Another howl escaped Lorne's throat, and this time she was certain – it was a sound of pure fury and hatred. What did Bishop say? That making Lorne mad would make him an easy target?

_That's it. I'm dead._

The thought came suddenly and clear as the morning, but strangely, no fear accompanied it. It was a fact, plain and honest, and eerily comforting in its simplicity.

_I guess I _am_ suicidal. He was right about that, at least._

Bracing herself, she forced herself to remain motionless, her eyes trained on Lorne's weapon as he readied for another charge. It was as though time had suddenly slowed down for her, the deafening battle shout Lorne let out seemingly coming from a great distance, his each move slow and deliberate where they had been full of chaotic, devastating force before. She watched him approach with a calmness only the certainty of one's imminent death could bring, looking for some opening in his stance, anything that would allow her to foresee his next move and get out of the way before it even came.

And then he was looming above her, his falchion raised high to deliver the final blow.

_Screw it all_

She burst into motion, diving under his arm, the muscles of her legs working furiously as she sprang into a somersault. She felt her shoulders collide with the ground, her grip on the rapier firm, already preparing to strike at Lorne's knees from behind. A subtle movement in the air told her something had gone very wrong even before her muscles suddenly failed her. The rapier slid out of her now limp hand and she found herself falling to her side for no apparent reason.

Only then did she feel the pain. It seemed to radiate from her right kidney, but soon spread across her spine to envelop her whole in an opaque shroud, clouding her vision. Tiny needles pierced her skin and sank deeper, to her very core, as Lorne brought down his foot for a second kick, hitting the very same spot as before.

She heard herself scream out hoarsely. The nine hells take it, the feet! She should have been watching his feet and his face, not the godsdamned sword! She should have known he wasn't stupid enough to fall for the same trick for the third time! Bane's blood!

Thoughts raced through her mind, only to be drowned out by the omnipresent, excruciating pain. Instinctively, she coiled on the ground to protect her head, but that did not stop Lorne from delivering another kick to her other kidney, making her cry out once again.

Darkness danced on the edge of her vision, but somehow she was able to roll over, if only to gain some time. Her weapon was lost, but maybe if she managed to get back on her feet…

This time she felt the movement of the air and was able to roll aside at the last moment, a little further than before, her hands and knees feeling around for support to draw herself up. She managed to lift herself on unsteady arms when she heard him approach again, a whooshing sound making her jerk upwards shortly before yet another vicious kick reached her ribcage, sending her flying onto her back. She fell down heavily, feeling the air drain from her lungs completely as a new kind of pain made her arch her back. She wheezed and coughed in vain, her mind hazy, the shadows growing on the sides of her vision, tempting her.

She felt her eyelids drift closed, but forced them open again, her head rolling limply to one side. Her tired gaze fell upon her hat, lying in the dirt some distance away, and a little further a shimmering, suggesting that was where her rapier had fallen. If only…

She heard the sound of Lorne's heavy footsteps draw nearer.

"What did I tell you about being smart, little girl?" came his mocking voice.

_There was a firm pressure on her upper back__ as something pinned her to the ground. She tried to shake it off, but failed. Somewhere behind her she could hear Bevil's muffled chuckle._

"_What did I tell you about being smart?"_

_Her sword was just out of __reach, where she had dropped it._

"_Lorne!" she gasped. "I can't breathe!"_

"_This is what you get for making stupid decisions, girl. Deal with it, if you can." Gina could swear she heard laughter in his deep voice._

"_Fine!" she said, spitting out the sand that had gotten into her mouth. "Fine, I get it. I'll be more careful next time."_

_The pressure did not lessen. In fact, Lorne shifted his weight to intensify it. She groaned._

"_Not good enough," his voice rumbled above her.__ "Impatience and arrogance will get you killed, no matter who your opponent is. You'd do good to remember that if you plan on surviving in the world, little pirate queen."_

_It was no easy task in her position, but Gina managed to nod. "I'll try."_

_The heaviness was finally removed from her back and she took a deep breath before rolling around and sitting up. She looked up to see Lorne's bearded face looming above her._

"_Try your best," he said with a genuine smile as he extended one hand to help her stand up._

_And she took it._

Gina shook her head violently, desperately trying to get rid of the darkness as Lorne's bald head came into view. A cruel, gloating smile was on his face, the sight slightly macabre due to the blood still seeping out of his nose. Somehow she doubted he would help her up right now, even if she asked nicely.

"Screw yourself," she spat, her eyes never leaving his, daring him to look back at her.

His face darkened even more, but he laughed. "Maybe you need another lesson, girl. Looks like the first one was not enough."

Gina watched him raise his blade, that smile still on his lips as he held her gaze unflinchingly. Looking deeply into his eyes, careful to keep all emotion that could betray her intent off her face, she braced each muscle, forcing her body off the ground once again. Lorne didn't even blink, still oblivious as her leg snaked behind his knee, forcing him to catch his balance again, not nearly enough to trip him, but enough to make the arm with his sword sway a little to the side, away from her body.

She rolled away again, as he no doubt had expected her to. But he could not have anticipated her to suddenly change her direction, and with all the force she could garner smash into his legs, using her entire body as a battering ram. Lorne swayed on unsteady legs, trying to prevent the inevitable, but found himself falling face down onto the ground with a thundering thud. His mind remained clear enough to tell him to stretch out his arms before he managed to impale himself on his own weapon.

No longer feeling the weight of his body upon her, Gina rose to her knees – much too quickly, as dizziness filled her head, the shadows dancing before her eyes again. Shaking her head, she stood, clenching her teeth against the pain in her ribs, several of which were surely broken. Purely on impulse, her foot found one of Lorne's wrists just as he began to gather himself off the ground, and kicked. His grip on the falchion's hilt weakened and she dug the heel of her boot into his hand, her other foot pushing the weapon out of his reach. To his credit, no sound passed his lips. It didn't take long before he was able to shake off her leg and half turn to his side, but this time she was the one with the advantage.

One of her boots found his face for the second time, more fresh blood gushing out of his now severely broken nose. Another blow reached his stomach, yet another his uncovered throat. Adrenaline pounding wildly in her veins, Gina could barely hear his wheezing and silent curses, red mist dimming her vision. Digging her foot under the sand, she kicked up his fallen weapon and caught it in mid air.

"Impatience and arrogance will get you killed," she heard her own voice, cold and alien. "No matter who your opponent is. Sound familiar?"

He roared, kicking out, trying to reach her legs, but she dodged him easily, jumping out of reach, her feet still lashing out at every unprotected part of his body she was able to reach.

"You taught me all these dirty moves," she sneered. "How does it feel to be on the receiving end, Lorne? How did it feel when you killed all those people?"

His hand finally closed around her ankle, but at the same moment her other foot reached his temple, nearly causing him to black out. She scampered away, taking a swing with the falchion and reversing her grip on the hilt. The pommel made firm contact with Lorne's jaw, his head jerking back as blood flooded his mouth. He lay back on the ground, awaiting the fatal strike, delivered with his own blade.

It never came.

Rolling himself to his side, Lorne raised his eyes to see her standing above him, the point of his falchion aimed at his throat as she held the sword in both her hands, unmoving.

"Well?" he snarled, his voice raspy. "What are you waiting for, little girl? Finish me! Think it matters? It doesn't! Garius wants you dead. He'll find you, and he'll make you wish for death in more ways than you can imagine. You've gained nothing! Go ahead, end this, if you've got the guts!"

Gina watched him in silence, her breathing short and ragged, feeling the first signs of exhaustion wearing on her. She wasn't sure how she was able to keep standing, but right now it didn't matter.

What mattered, was the man lying at her feet, completely at her mercy. She could see the cold hatred mixed with humiliation in his eyes, but most of all, a question. One she wasn't sure she wanted to answer.

Then again, maybe she did not have to.

"Oh, no, Lorne," she felt a mocking smile crawl across her lips as she stalked closer to his lying form. "I'm not gonna let you off that easily. Nothing I could do to you would be as bad as what your master will do once he learns of your defeat."

His eyes widened a little as he continued to stare at her, and she felt pleased to see a hint of fear in them. She placed the point of the falchion under his chin, forcing him to raise his head even further, to make sure he was looking directly at her face as she spoke.

"Go to your master in Luskan, Lorne, and tell him that you've failed. Go and fall on your knees, begging for mercy, like the people in Ember did. Who knows, maybe you'll get lucky. But I swear, if I ever see you again, I won't hesitate to kill you like the scum you are."

She took away the blade. Lorne dropped his head and remained on the ground, resigned and defeated, his eyes fixed on the dirt beneath him, staining it with his blood. For one fleeting moment she almost pitied him. Almost.

"Bevil and I used to be proud of you," she said, too quiet for anyone else but him to hear. "So did Retta."

Not waiting for the response that would not come, she backed away, watching him intently until she saw two armed guards hurry towards him with chains and shackles. She turned around and limped towards the curtain of fire on her side of the arena, pausing only to retrieve her own weapon and hat. Above her, the crowd began to cheer, cuss, or simply yell, but she did not hear it, just as she did not hear Nasher's pompous speech. It didn't matter. None of it mattered anymore.

Something inside her had died.


End file.
